Today is one of nonsencical fuzzy brain. I can't seem to focus my will to overcome the comeable. My eyes see through the conspirator's haze or see to the haze. its hard to tell. A past of persence came forth today of dark eyes and soft skin. Her lips never stoped moving and she somehow knew my name. Yet I beseech thee.
A rose not knoweth any other name yet smell so pure. I was peirced by ruby red petals and smelt only thorns.
The wind of change is always blowing and over time all is forgotten or forgiven or forsworn. Even in the darkest dungoun a fairy princess is found and ever fairly a price is set. The world is for sale if your pockets are deep enough, dig down now and see who you can buy. I for one am not for sale, unless your pies are from picking and sauce is a stirring.

Sencibility is a sence ability, right now I can't smell anything.