Witty Caveman

Hunched over the cro magnum man with the fated confidence of blind prophets remarks with clumsy wit. Remarks of armaments and paraphrased lyrics from a Hendrix song. It urks the soul one would continue to ravage one already deadened in every nerve and at the same time deep within something may still beat. Something may still confuse her. This thespian induced hope which is manufactured in Taiwan but ordered from the nineth circle of hell, it’s currier climbing up Shaitan’s husky frame to forever delve downward, and the burgeoning fruits of misery souring her hope And the lies continue. Yes. Perpetrating a fraud.