Dynamite. Increased frequency.
I was younger six minutes ago.
As if lovebirds heaving from damages; too wild to heal, caged by disruption.
I was not first specimen; in life, determined chaos.
Crumbling aside a prayer: if one measured what moves spirit: pulling everything from within, pouring self until becoming fluidity.
Life was feelers, wondering by driven force, silence making it worse.
To sense doubletalk in souls: only out of need to imagine an immortal song.
