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Stream of Consciousness- rough draft-

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  • Stream of Consciousness- rough draft-

    Summer Won

    Those cakes of dry dirt though truly mud have never really dried enough, exit, door, darknesses and breathe, the sound of dead voices Attack me til i draw in your Silent spite and kick and punch the Sunlight dragging me around, brown, paper, bag lotus eye and Pomp til saw was soul and never doored unto thence and never-spring again, deft music and compile and triplicate trying to remember & deathly dirges, haste, spock, Russian Queen by mail, distaste answer Unhurt feelings, monotheistic Code breaking.

    That Lethë would drown us Forget
    That Tartarøs is hidden beneath mud
    That and this without 'Because'
    No time to make amends before i drown,
    Green waves and mold, and voices
    Trapped beneath the watery surface
    Lunging from themselves Audient
    Lethë above Tartarøs-- also below.
    Trapped into running in still-life,
    Framed vacancy, sleeping children.
    Anger drowned me, drove me away.
    Mad because i wanted to Only think.
    Ketū & Rahū & Surya & co.
    Popular and pretty, to handsomely warm.
    To fear of Undersky, to world too big
    Against dream and spite, Forget.
    And scars made to scare, as if to voice Truth.
    And nothing remains of us, nor that Hope.
    And the astral battle rages on.

    Promise to tinnitus to cloister to clam,
    To shell to irrepressible to Abusive
    To jean corduroy to textile,flannel
    To leather jacket,blackened to moon to come.
    Revolve to decide to volute to vilify,
    To femtosecond to parsecs to pasta.
    To fear of words to fearmongers
    To children and babies, teen age, and youth.

    To go to parties or walk mountains
    With broken ankles, to Baltic seas
    To widow in the thicket
    To bamboo wind trust Forget
    To brain to wash to excite to be sickened
    Tired of pain and hatred,
    Tired of any accomplishment,
    Craves silence, and spurns the negative.
    To whitewash to luger to Rimbaud
    To trystings to rabies too tired Forget
    To 123 and 321_ the glass halls
    Without you, love. Forget...
    Last edited by amenOra; 03-09-2017, 07:24 PM.