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There is a madness about me

With ungovernable impluses

That borrow my tormented mind

It is aflame a conflagration

Burning more intensely than the sun

Consumed by unlimited time and space

An imposed barrier of perception vanishes

Gives way, gives way, my god gives way

To the cause of violating the imagination

One that does not recede but flows, flows

more powerful due to such defiable infringement

Flames of excitement entice me toward

A trajectory that swings out over the void

My god I see him, see him, see him

Sitting smiling, smoking a pipe

Jean-Nicolas-Arthur Rimbaud

Vanish, vanish, now all is gone, disappeared

Perhaps later, yes later, perhaps
...it is a letter in a cemetery...to hell with distinguished solemnities or perhaps heaven with dubious incompetence of well meaning form....down here....down here.... in the cemetery....where there are no poignant laments...for us...the emaciated corpses...grotesques that reside perhaps beyond your horizon of plausible vision...but sit here among the dead eyes hiding in the leaves...where our coordinants evaporate in vandalized ink...help wanted among the emaciated corpses..........
Vandalized ink stains

Where my feelings

Were washed away

if I cry it is for help

If I'm sick it is a love song

Written on the soul

Where help is wanted

For emaciated corpses

You know, yes you know

Where the dead eyes are

Down among the leaves

Watching, watching, watching
I live in a long solitude

A life of prolonged

And perpetual suicide

For all life, all lives

Are thus so
........there is an asylum in my thought that flees .....a conspiracy in confederation that possess a fatal capacity to provide violent  symphonies to play upon my mind, with diligent dispersal in a thick breeze of color all the words of nocturnal extravagance that I am all to eager to learn to invent to place to paper while all around me there is an eruption of orange and red.......
Words unreleased congeal

Within the agonies of conjecture

Tormented by solid sorrows

Sounds that can not be pacified

Plague my presence

In unannounced pronouncements

Who will be summoned?

By this secret voice

A piercing sorrow?

Our the sensuous meaning of tragedy

The grief of eternal exclusion
......there is a sorrow that tears at my heart....it cries like an orphaned child looking for a father....it swirls about me in the night and plagues me in the light......
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