i am one who places pain on oneself in order to understand the depths of what it is to paint such monet skies.  so in this i bleed from the tongue in which i bite and give just a little bit of the sight in which i am endowed.  insecurities of oneself are expressed through such writings that are posted here, there, emails, bulletins, journals, intranet, or a tablet of paper.  nevertheless the epiphany that is placed here today, tonight, if there is such a thing, i've realized a single person understands the definition of definition.  so spread such knowledge for others to pull the wool from their eyes yet i have spoken today, tonight, if there is such a thing and there are those who would steal such words and knowledge and proclaim and exclaim that it is there twinkling of their eye in which they speak such words not acknowledging the very author so to speak in which they have ripped such pages from.  a form of plagering as it were.  i pity these individuals.  i am vexed contently.  i know those who proclaim such titles as knowledgeable, ever knowing, unplugged, dead to the world, lonely, lonesome, drifter, or anything to that magnitude truly boast because they are insecure yet they do not exalt those who are on the same team or on the same quest or those they have learned from or those they have ripped the pages from.  in an essence, the books that stand with the pages ripped from them speak nothing to those that have ripped the pages from them because the book is living the real.  those who have ripped pages are only attempting to get up in their laziness of their slumber.  lying in the real and being tugged, not pulled, by the rope of onslaught.  the books that have been stolen from and those who stole from them, one a rich poor man, rich in such knowledge and vision.  the other, a thief with envy of the rich poor man caught in a robin hood complex.  the rich poor man is balanced and the other can only hope.