October 6th

Cellar door is no more an affect to this human chore.
The upper door is closed to the real area of know.
Simply sits it on the ledge of the now, and sees it only the palpable lore.
Rather it boxes in and structures and sows, what is seen as society: epitome of broken dreams, built from the meager who sit on the feet of the eager cleaver that mows them like meat.
As to compensate a lack of knowledge, the upper door cries.
Its tears drop and on flow the lies, ride the metal beams of institution that plunge themselves in houses, and businesses and honest men, and the smallest of the cities.
And erect themselves strong based on their promise of right.
Convincing themselves even that they have a way of control.
But the cellar door is closed, and no affect will it have.
The key is inside a Loch ness mouth.
Obviously the human is not in touch with the reality.
Else it would thoroughly understand that knowledge is key, and knowledge is not real.
Metaphysical objects fly through the upper door, and close the cellar door in their wake.
So to control the masses by way of mass murder of mass brains is a sure downfall to the epitome of broken dreams.
They will come back, through the cellar door, and take you.