. entertainers of
the lost abstract...
i don't know:
personally?
i just like,
the way it sounds..
akin to something
with chaos
inclined:
and i was
the devil that danced
to the song
of the misfortune
of:
seeing
the glitter in the moon,
and the moon
and i
were stunned:
why, why o why
am i left intact?
i've been given life
but no peace
to fathom it with...
ever consider
harrowing
a harvest's worth
of a season
by sowing
nothing but
salt...
on the budding
eager grain?
the irrelevance
of a dylan...
compared
to a cohen:
via a...
cover...
to have lived is
to have died a thousand's
worth of the unrhythmic
beat...
in symphony
to the equation
summarized in
the rubric of
the word: heart...
heave my solitary
Atlas: one more day
worth with you
and worth of you
and all that becomes:
the lost "missing"
grey area of -
you can almost
finalize yourself at
the prospect of
a grey-square
in the vein of
Beckett not being:
either of those
compound
skives...
i have a mind
and a heart like a lottery:
yet for all
that deserves this
and any other
comparison:
to tenderness
and no veal
to a beef...
you do know,
that
they do not advertize
work in a slaughterhouse
in the job center?
you do know that?
i could certainly
pet a cat,
as i'd be able to
"pet" a cow before a:
chow mein;
enough to fiddle with
yer finite gobs in
what becomes a:
you'll tire of
the anonymous tirade...
i once thought of
Saturday:
had nothing to do with
something akin
to sitting it out
on a claustrophilia
in a living room...
the day's baggage
and a non-to-send
bask for a postcard's worth
to appeal to the green
of: somehow...
anise...
mediocre
mellow me...
punching-bag
ergonomics:
to heave this weight
as the weight that
lost the purpose
of being: orientating...
i...
forget
whatever remains
of what's to come via
the collapse
of the affirmative
in a scuttling
variation of:
chasing
the shadow that gave
the chase a genesis,
a cul de sac exodus...
and the shadow:
mighty avant-garde
clues for:
a lost breath...
man as assured:
the pebble
and humanity
as the:
prior to all
minor stakes in
reviving
the gloat from dino.
the little history of man:
in the omnipresent
hyena's eye
for the ever
resonant:
calculated
demise of the narrator...
for the
/ a world to see:
is no world:
in prospect to be
- even midning
a completion
with the composure
of a suffix...
rigid boy,
educated for nothing
more than a brand
of shackles,
and of envy...
and...
a testimony
of what becomes:
best - assured -
could ever time
lodge into itself:
an amnesia
and become
a person?
hues in blue:
bound by:
thesaurus...
azure...
and... a Sunday's tip of:
what isn't
the collective mind
for the invigorating
mess of soul..
a serious literary
endeavor...
hues in blue:
brush strokes like
accents and...
it's hardly an
algebra, or some mathematical
abstract...
f(Σ) = ι
consciousness: via the function
of the sum: man,
sum: of man...
"off" man...
f(Σ) = ι...
which is a contradiction...
sensationalist journalism
would agree:
the function of the sum of man
= the isolated man: iota...
but it doesn't...
shackled buckling of
a man versed in
science:
having no profound
scratch at the humanities...
sooner come death
sooner i will arrive
at a clarification of:
not having to orientate
myself
with a "self"-worth
of introspect
in an en masse
with no retrospect.