the expression of thoughts isn’t my own

these are the ravings of a lunatic

expression of that pathologic, y’know?

 

the disjointed, the inchoate

the gutted formed modes of travel

across the verse

the versions

and diversions

and revisions

 

between two points and oh, that tenuous grip

acceptance that rebirth is merely a forgetting

 

external displacement

 

ecdysis

 

 

forgiveness is merely atrophy

hope is surely mortal dystrophy

 

he’s given in

to the allure escape

he’s given in

 

i’ve lost him now

i turned too late

he wheeled around the corner

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