The lack of structure is itself destructive. There’d be no purpose in trying to understand anything, otherwise. No matter how shallow you’d try not to be, everything would just be gone and leave you in such a short time that you’d hope you would not notice.
And in these empty lines you’d try to trace permanent signs of will in a desperate attempt to impose some kind of identity to things.
Such feels the world on endless days, when perspective can not be found within oneself.
heimdimension 