a comrade died I swelled
up I hit wire I blazed embalming fluid. firepower exhaustion, laughing with Gilligan,
so many hours since the funeral. I stabbed out rolling backstreets hanging with
a person unleveled. so candescent so altered a woman at her team. a vanguard
barbeque so many soft as souls while fierce in a ghetto unchained. needing
medicine or self-medicating, wild electric snakes. we listen to winds, we call
it psithurism, so awakened at 2 a.m. I sat on a brick wall. I argued with
vicious canines, momma just broke sanity. father seems lost my eyes keep
swelling, like frantic or cursed while a soul was blessed. it mixes in waves it
billows through winds while sprinkling down hypothetically😊. today hast to
feelgood such noor in power like glowing in fluorescence. let’s Blake life
those herds where Nietzsche was astounding masses. interior kenopsia as
eeriness so wild how a soul becomes a ghost. I first fell into city pains
laughing like deranged so gutted in helium sparking a new existence—an old rule
meeting at night unleashing something fretting its comforts. eating sweetgrass
rewound in cemeteries mourning so hard something shocked our universe. each item
is a soul. each planet is in us. it creeps from gut to atmosphere. like 29,000
days, drenched in darkness, a mystic will arise at his final answer; built into
blankness, back into an infant, might be gifted the last properties. frozen
from infancy remorse is unsteady it seems I just stole my first bike. more
minds, strict hibernation, while as a child we raised a church. his eyes.
indeed. it was the Ghost. never that. it couldn’t be. we have something more
incriminating. I leave people to thoughts. if it feels good, if it makes
superiority, just roll with it. I shot to Alaska during summer eve right here
in California; palms bud cakes rerocking zones or running hitting fences
laughing at the gravehouse. I saw a woman. I understood her powers. but in all
honesty, I have so little to part a territory—rash into action giggling with
Elijah so many chariots filled with naivety. I ached for another tripping into
a galaxy, it’s pure redemption. (most we eat a Sahara failing a bit at a sight
longing for his fantasies.)
