Comes the high discernment of what

won't be suffered.

The very life of it returns to be  

mercifully obliterated.

A frenzy of trespass righted, where

lines weren't.

A witness stripped of sides, swears by

seeing--to speak the unspoken.

A warrior cuts to first loyalty.

Never denying what is, never settling for

what is not--all else is premature death.

Earphones can conjunct like wrong

planets--isolating a soulless listener.

Forced to hear dissonance, noise plugs

that give what they get.

Awkwardly excreting too much

information, owned by goodliness.

The whole bus reacts as if something

is passing through.

Music's ****** paralysis, at harmonious

odds--prohibited flight.

The stank roots one puts down when

caught, the sorriest excuse for being.

Music doesn't play to everyone, just

because they press play.

It knows whose listening.

Innocence quietly leaves in the

middle of the night--knowing when

she's become an imposition.

She's more than welcome, but her

presence hurts--her lightness is too

heavy.

She always means to stay, but goes

because of what she means.

The worst proclaim her, cursing their

parents for putting them here.

As they prodigiously corrupt

everything they touch.

They think themselves majestic

creatures, that must flee back into the

treeline they exposed themselves from.

Wearing leafy masks of misconstrued

radiance.

Being at a safe distance from themselves

is all that matters...

taking cover long enough to feel like

a victim.

These are the ones that curse innocence

under their breath, as they duck.

A vessel becomes the

planchette of depths,

moved by the underbelly

of a storm.

Drawn all the way out,

to know how it's seen.

The bloodless spelling

of its own name.

The unrivaled emergence of a rat's

snout, struck pose of filth en vogue.

Fetishistic tastes--garbage's face-sitting,

shadowy specificities for arrival.

The procession of bumbled streetlights

breaks its leash, newfangled cheese

teefs held in contempt.

Cutting down anything other than

rat-hood, waste's deconstruction.

Its greatest character complexity is

escaping self-hatred.

The disparity of a fine line suddenly

metastasizing.

Made to live as if offending the wrong

existence, beating whiskers in

disintegrative trickles that issue:

all clears.

Meticulous nomadicism.

Eyes that have figured a way out, but

get caught by a body, which repeats like

a mistake if seen.

Photographer's darling, showing more &

more & more dente, with the attitude of

a dork osmotically permeating a book.

Clamped shut.

An equanimous snort from passing away.

A monstrous intelligence helps

up a grin, like a running start

that never ends.

All in the course of observing

what's bold enough to be that

hideous.

Pursued by its condition, survival

makes no excuses.

Crowds are somehow pleased, but

not convinced--even offer welcome.

Akin to the dark side of the moon

left with her legs held up.