WORDS BUT MERE WORDS ARE LIKE FIREFLIES TO UMBLE BREAKING THOUGHT

It's been just one of them nights, the ones which take it upon themselves, like broken thoughts and dancing wolves.
To the lake of drowning empaths and paths which sprawl outward like lost souls in oil thick slated bridges.
You tell me one day that you deserve more.
But I will never agree
Came a voice from another space time counting embermant
your not to shabby are you
Who me
Yes you, fOR goodness sake who would I else be talking to.
We wondered just when you'd turn up. You great oaf and here you are.
"the night was cold and the sounds of firey little imps told of a breaking fog on the midst of desires mounds.
But did you tell of the the sounds which played deep in the hollow confines of belittling ears. Depths untouched an uncattered for. You showed the once to me, to us all but. Never again would you venture out of your hiding hole to come once more to the light.
I know there is but a meaning that I should in fact retort to you, yoU WWHO IS LOST TO ME. yEt talks me down each night whiLE i PRAY.
bUT I wish for no intermediary.
i wish only for sorts and more of the same within myself.
I do not know of the brocken or the breaking, while my words trickle down beyond my pen. To the ground and run in to deep darkened streams . While they collect in the harrowed display which your mind play within the night and the days to follow.
As the hope for another to come close and touch for a seldom cry within my working tide.
But you'll never agree so I will JUST STOP!q!!!!!!
fOR YOU'LL NOT BREAK UPON the shores of amusement.
The lfe which haunts the very deps of a varied soul, emerges as if to break on to anothers cold indiscretions and while I wonder onward to another dimension I am left in the soil and the display you created for all to watch.