I beseech thee, ever incandescent sky, all enveloping Master Mind. Spirit to nothing. Intangible heavy substance. Dense as dense could be, become and thrive, here in the bottomless net of all things made up in make believe. Worshipping no man as sinner, condemning no man as honorable!
Obliterating cancerous thoughts before they make it to the vestibule or outhouse on this illusory Earth. Rapt in an idole who waits in some depression somewhere far from friends and foes invented in a kind of sanctuary or havre of peace.
O great Spirit interpreter, dead to New Age mumbo. Undrugged fiend, with no heartless and hopeless handicap. But a whisper in the eye. A magical trick teetering into oblivion.
Does a man here with other migrant fellows, believe really believe in the crap that comes from his belly, to be an obstacle to his wellbeing of worthlessness? On the skirts of some hellish liar decked with teats, the wayfarer goes off to the side and watches carefully. What is it covers my pupils in dismay if it isn’t the dross of CO2? A wink and a batter in between several buns doesn’t make my day. Yet, what levitates deceives, what goes round, but hesitates!
My Sisters in Heaven Earth and Hell doubt the ascertainable existence of their own children who now weaned from their bitter nipple, will necessarily with displeasure aggravate their single heartfelt endeavor! They cut the bite, but no lever holds; nothing binds. No string attached no scissors to cut.Where’s the indefinite spool turning inside the august ethereal corner in my bedroom?
I beseech thee then with my steady arms uplifted, to unshake the befuddled bystander. To make him disappear because it’s of no use or better to make him or her become a cup bearer to your tidy plan. Then scuttle back to the cupboard where nothing is to be known.
