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the post-13th.

the marriage of the ridiculous to the erroneous was in stark contrast that day of days…the sacrificial scapegoat scraping by on loose amounts of change and reason…an altered ego applied against the fascist status quo with onward fears of where to go next…the ulterior motive sways precariously from limb to limb, and my senses reel from the chaos that ensues therein…the drive is a creative one, but manifests in bold swatches and swathes over time’s collapsing rays of hope…seeking release deserves its period in the son…wordplay not so much a game as a means to express and digress throughout all progress Here…discoveries of the other parts of me are taking hold, and my mind defiles the kindness that forces itself upon the others…authority counts the moments until my demise, and my eyes can’t see what the point ever truly was…now in silence, a refuge is sought, and found by quicksand increments within this hourglass frame…the bugs and the alcohol are the only certainties given, and procrastinated stews are what is taken…my energy depletes in leaps and bounds, but the binding is too tight for me to resist completely…scared of a futile sequence that betrays its maker, and slashes the tires to prevent the movement towards peace of sanity…why write to pronounce this junk in my skull properly?…never seems to make the impact bold enough to sustain the grace to defend myself…
I seek the real, and parody that in its own way, building a memory of tortuous artistic merit…maybe you have never seen my pictures, but my caring lacks a goal, either for oneself or others that would approach me to be pleased…all are viewed with suspicion or outright despise…trying to use some means to complete themselves through growth and understanding, but denouncing the wicked soles beneath the surface qualities…morals mean nothing but endless chatter that my persona need be weary of…no one listens that waits to speak, and so I am Here…
Thanks, khet.