Saturday, 19 April 2014

100+4. Just Thinking, Everything Stripped out in Failure Is Painful, We See

it? Sometimes repetition, not damaged
yeah, writhing here – oh let it be hopeful
to hold now in necessity, so mysterious
feelings just churning, bouncing, blatant
all of this now suddenly ending
into our Fircrow, the rotting Sean, oh
trapped & splintering. We wave around or written
the pleasures still droning we call, we happen

all events explained? Somehow dappled, or
in a huddle, just silence comes, clear, cold
at this unfigurable as these stallions
their play some other pleasure
all sufficient to taste or stain the dark
yet, yes, the despite may hold, can shut in
remembrance in a wound, a valley, some world
there’d be silence & shrivelling. Nothing explains here you

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