Adjendaless another day begun, he looks at the screen, he wishes it was done. There are so many secrets, kept through the guise of lies, backed up by papers and chasers, lawers and men that ask why.

He looks at those lessons they try to teach. He crys to the universe that sometimes seems out of reach. He never needed their old spells, they were full of falsehoods and odd smells. His powers came from having to push back, all the time false powers on the attack, from childhood and even now.

He holds them at bay, then climbes upon them as the monkeybars as his child hood park playground. He chuckELs that they still just don't get it. He crys for them men the puppets of that which they don't believe in. He crys for what they do to themselves, to others, to himself as a child.

They mark everything down. They have others look at it for cracks. They think they are the top notch on the scale of trackers. They fool themselves into thinking they are the watchers, but a whole universe watches them.

He knows they have been visited, and they think they can out smart they that do come down, but from the perspective of the heavenly hights, they are but monkeys upon the ground. And we all wish they would try to be more.