How many pages til the next chapter in this story of the ages as abominations run amok through the paragraphs stuck in between punctuations like veal in cages.
Somthing twisted is connected like the braided naval vein feeding me from a space I don't try to give a name.
Lines flowing through my system powered by the frame of an electric main keeping me in a place sparking at the touch of anything mundane.
Seeing is believing when it's the words your conceiving, birthing of a tale designed to keep you feeling, aspects of the sinister to contrast the healing, rhyming is easy but it's the meaning of the whole that resonates as an understanding.
Life is a simple story with a complex veiw, you can become a living pariah or a hero who dies and its nothing new.
My poems are of a single thought held up on the back of a personal Atlas separating world's of a diffrent hue.