foxes in the night,
able to cuddle
and subsequently
make pillow of my
thoughts and my
feelings...

                 like...
the persistent
disorientation
of schizophrenics...
my audio
hallucination:
you're made prompt...
astounding...
relief from
having to experience
a stigma...
              can i be allowed
to **** through the past
and not die
lured by schismatic spasms
of stigmata?
if i succumbed
to cancer...
   well... i wouldn't
be shamed!

yeah, you,
you're to stand stark
naked
upon a stage
where all
the curiosiosity
of the performabce
is hidden
within the light....
trickling
on the performer...
while the entire cast
of a crowd remains
hidden...

            ginger ninja:
ed sheeran...
             you know the slot
appearing pawn
of a thought to
scuttle rough...
rat-like...
          
                       i am but the black
behind the wating
pixel belzeebub
fixture...
    of a pixel paper...
dot...
dotted archives...
        and a summary in               ...
yes?
         i have not become
so worn as expected?
postponing
any if all exclusionary
remarks...
    
foxes in the night...
they're not the howling
of wolves...
and all that remains to
have to attach a romance...
wolves... aren't exactly foxes...
foxes will never become
wolves...
              bastion:
meinezuletzt:
                           my last...

i do not grieve...
for the africans killing
off animals that cannot
be herded..
farmed...
  made use of...
         like foxes...
in the north...
        i wish i could
aspire
to said,
designation of will...
far from
the labour & liberty
of accomplishing nothing
more than work,
on paper...
to have to...
find twin-extremes...
of a stress that
would perpetuate
will...
                 a fed gut...
and a needing
         to feed it to boot...
the narrative broke
twice-over...
the altar of shadow
beaming
from a hunchback...
    no allure remains
left intact to make
allusion
              for, and, with...

dis-ease...
that infamous
negation, of ease...
           only one,
but one, only one
generation of man
made the transition
period
to stand equal as gods...
between those born
circa 1940 and 1960...
with their retirement
plans...
   my own maternal grandfather?
retired for 30+ years...

      suicide isn't a problem
for me...
           it's what some could
claim to be, a duty-stature...
i'm being realistic...
                he went in,
did his sort-of-*******...
over-powered
a will of god...
died the most painful death,
enjoyed it...
             and forgot
to mind being involved
in sleeping in a coffin
via the general procedures
of a funeral...

          i sometimes
forget to care...
    the more i try to care...
the less urban i feel...
   like some associate
neighbour
with a stranger's mail
intact...
                i crave the shadow
of the moon...
and abiding behind
finding myself in it...
       imagine...
an orb... that can dress itself
in both the light shone
upon it...
and a shadow...

              tomorrow is no more
than what the current day
has served for me to ingest...

such pure economic
acupuncture...
         basic...
          reminding me...
with every wake-up
for a worth of tomorrow...
i will hardly be
disappointed...
            because i know...
     just, the basic, sameness...
held by a quasi-borrowing
of...
                 the dye being
already, cast.