Let’s fuck filthy….
let’s
slit the veins of
discretion
with
masticated
Autumn
nails
till the
affliction
from our lips
cloud the
creativity
of the
dream
as we watch (passively)
the
spoiled
words
that will no-longer fill our
lungs
suffocate the
soul!

but now-! What does any of this mean you might ask…. They are only a bunch of nomadic works sluiced together in hopes of creating some sort of emotional affect-.
They are only carfully plotted romanticism’s….
Poetics of a fractured piecing together of a life that you do not understand; And you
would be absolutely right in saying so! But what else can i do but use these fraudulent
words….how else am i to explain to you-… or convey to you the effects-,     the un-
speakable joys and sorrows of what awaits me when i lay down to sleep…, and close
my eyes,
and hear the frothing surge of the undertow just before i’m swept up and out into its black currents;  Isolated and alone in its black expanse…. Where i’m finally overcome-!

How else but in echoes can i talk to you of the Death of my brother who was not yet
happy?

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