All a lumping together, forced to face our separate selves
Though if we forms divised apart
When do we melt or sublimate back?
Off tract by habit-tat-tat-tat-tat
Laughing; the brat upheld her ways
Braying and kicking and making a stink
Staking unholdable, miserable values
Dolls on a glass shelf, and we dust to misinform
Because these ever static statistics
hold our weary waves from wagging
To their novel nature
And I pray to find that state, that place, that thee
The Thou-
Caught by the proud, the sounds they unfold
And the echos distract, and derail off a track
That could never take leave
The olive branch dove of concept
panics from the sound of arms
..she never left
Never will and the wilting flower falls
to clear the way for something new
A bubble, a blob, a splat, a clump
A bloom forms upon making a collective sound
While the bustling pressure denies details
These breaths, these cells
Streams of blood; thinning and clotting
Thoughts and views and spewing momentum
Fulcrum lifting these crates to cohesion