The bridges are math,
What lies under is theory,
A graviton in truth.
E equals
God's part:

Tiny cells
On a collision course
Missing everything
In between.

It's nothing new
In a prison
Or office
Because both shape
A prisoner.

It's the same
Geometric shape,
Because both
Percieve a prison.

Red running,
A blood flowing
Carrying deliverance,
Return to sender,
Heart beats thumping
What,

Red Running,
Colored sky
And the sun is yawning
In a daily perpetual
Death,

Red Running.

We are supposed beings
In  thought
Made of infinity,
Passed by momentum,
Mediocre wonders
In a marvelous prison
Whose door
Leads to
A universal soul!

What I write is an expression,
One that I can never just tell
You.

What I say I couldn't write because
I never meant to hurt you.

That's the poem
And you,
The difference
Is reading one
From the other.

To whom one is loved,
To be loved delivers
In return
A natural state of what
It means to be human.
And all along the river
As the waters whisper moments
In a running stream
That makes what bearable
Pre existing emptied
Soul poured into the flesh
And left to settle into the dust
What one can manage,
Only the love returned fills
The soul,
And family, friends ,
And lovers begin the end
In a flash so bright
It blinds a star
And what is born is life,
Each a tiny universe unto
The self,
A portrait of a person
For better or otherwise
Solidifies the magnification,
Love is Spirit,
And I am magnificent,
Because I know I will
Die of life,
And I lived,
All that one can do....

If the Little Dictator was alive?
He would admire Trump and his squad.
Conquer and divide, would be his motto.

Gather your group together through intimidating factors.
Support the violence of one and blame the other.

If ****** was living.
Whew! Just like now, we would be in a heap of trouble.
Except in America vicious hate always get kicked down.

Even if ****** was living.