I try to avoid systematic indoctrination—it’s
impossible—with wings the mind does not ignore patterns. So simplistic an
assault. So crazy an analogy. Would you love me otherwise?
It went deep. It cut issues. It became the transference
it began at; moon stolen dice—affected arts in pain—another has discovered
pieces of profanity.
I haven’t eaten—not of foods, more of energies—I hope
to lose weight soon.
Sane afflatus. No one listens. The people are asking
about love — “Teach us love.” So grand a writer—he stood in trenches, much a
requiem for Gibran.
I have adored life, waned on life, rebuilt, assaulted,
trying to wing on life; it kills in pieces, the horns are evident, one is
seriously upset; the rest of us must get over our shit, not many are with that
line of roses.
Many bags of make-sense, souls treading nonsense, if
but to grate more sensibilities; so famous a guru, without mercy, administering
tactic for tactic, angry a soul hasn’t lost remedies: a great mentor of
spirits!
