Subjunctive rearticulation project

Being able to only harness life through dead words, what do I know of the subject surpassing its itinerary of madness; by rote, a reiterative condition full of dull terror; by arrogance of minds, accumulative sins, tears, idle tears, and divine tears of despair. And in the morning darkness and distance without even a pool to cast a reflection in, only odds and ends of text to read through, wallowing in this body and that, where behind each act is a play in which one can choose to be one of three characters in the royal family, Oedipus, Antigone, and or Tiresias, the chameleon eating bugs on the road side, dodging the hordes on the way to dinner and low calorie enlightenment. Or could it be a David before growing to a Goliath or Frankenstein’s monster who bases all on Paradise lost’s ruined offspring and universal blank. My mind runs amok in the rains and rumors of rat eating vipers. Some say celebrate the small things, but in relation to what? Nothing? Two point perspective and or the quantum will with its multiple worlds emerging, leaving one with a myriad of infinite universes undulating in the unimaginable.