william-schaeffer
I document the lives of liars, expeditions that have gone so long untold–and only seen as dreams. / The waxing moon rises and thrives from horizon to orion, reaching for the bitter-sweet mode of Jove. The cadence of his orb’s rays are quite enough to clear any being of any haze: This is why people dream at night, resting best in the dark. / / So these lives untold hold onto a sense of grand deception; it is their will.
Please try to preserve the sleepless innocence,
It shows the most trying of souls through shiftless inter-changables.
I beg for mercy from these woes,
For there are few others i can relate to these days!
As my body transforms,
And my body warps,
For once in my life
I anticipate the bitter cold!
And i’d rather not hear you speak such banter any longer,
For it is far too much to bare,
Especially in such times
Where both shoulder blades and ribs
Cave in on an aching pity of tirelessness–
Bloodshot eyes and arthritis
Aching from the forearms down.
Academia has yet to begin.
I wring my skin of an aching burn.
The body is weary and demands rest as i can expect it.
Coincidentally, demand is on the rise–
Or could it just be another ideology,
One that explains the universe to the mind?
Depriving the body teaches one how to survive…
Jun 14, 2010
Jun 14, 2010 at 8:52 PM UTC