Should I post my writings, for I dont like to type, being that I am an old fashioned pencil and ink man.

Where is time?

Wasting of the time, that goes, and everything is fine.............. Sitting in filth, after many roads traveled, only to come again to this sad fact friend, longing away from present, my mind is in the past's of vast suspended animation .? ? !Purpose sought, purpose found, now I have to find the higher ground . .. . . ... .. ... ... .. . .. .. .. Not as one presumes, for it is further away from your point of view. What I see, is the distractions, too slow decaying of limited time, fulfilling yes another of the pasts rhyme. ... ... . . .. ... ..... .... .. . .. . . ... ... .. . .. . . . . ... . Ok then, take me for a spin, always hoping that you will win, I thought, pass along, revealing all I sought, over this time period of knowing not.
Hmmm, the sounds of oscillating points of light, complexity detailing, the harmonic influxuastions, that remedy the fiber of afterthought. ... .. .. . . .. ... . . . .......... ..
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The time before time still exist, or the foundation that is our present would not able to exist. The fragile existence between the sexes. Destroying ourselves and our procreation, Searching the pit for fresh surroundings. ? !! !! He walks into the store, the familiar surroundings of uncomfortableness surrounds him. He wonders the thoughts of others, as if there exists a field of confusions being injecting into daily circumstances.