Flee to the hills! What hills?!
You cannot be serious!
When all heaven breaks lose, where do you find yourself?
Lost in comfort?
Does the seed not sprout away from that which we all hold dear?
Why do you try in a reality where time is factually space?
What is the mental button?
Need I continue asking all of these questions like a composed madman?
Reality is home. You can draw distinctions away from that righteous conclusion, and hang your hat there, but your distinctions are a foreign entity designed for both survival and termination.
I cannot contain it any longer!
It is not any voice that I seek.
At home is where I work and rest to remain.