There was an essential part of friendship circles,
Enslaved by their own minds, a broken collective menace.
No great outpour would come from their imagination as
I watched and waited with unbridled peaceful subtlety.
Who cares if people smoke, I don’t even enjoy it
I do it to die.
(Self-destructive wretch.)
One line
Lines
Make aesthetic pleasures exact themselves without purpose.
A masterpiece of modern verse constructed spontaneously:
Without regularity or rhyme, to calmed and cool tones.
I don’t need people; I don’t enjoy them
Nor do they let me die.
This is no suicide note
Simply an appreciation of mortality
I revel in the prospect of my own downfall.
(Masochistic, selfish wretch.)
In art’s putrid ***** comfort is found
Pop culture comparisons made to figures of excess.
I want to be of a certain kind
Loved, killed, then vilified.
The final wish of a tortured soul’s hand.
But also who wouldn’t like to ring my neck?
Not for futile revenge, the ‘emotion’ most dry,
Instead I’ll **** for cold, callous heroes.
No ‘human condition’ - more like the intellectual plague...
I wish.
And think, think, think, think, think, think through
A thorough thinking with illness entrenched
And those most sick who think with more than
Streaming language: the minds penicillin.

I find limbo a destination more desirable than this.
Coming to our strings end the circles’ once tense ties are broken,
Friends’ own minds are once again enclosed, broken -
The menace of others thoughts are felt
-- hard.
People spread their mindless lust with an air of freedom.
(So Ignorant.)
The arrogant are lost
And true freedom is found in strange words such as this
Spontaneous language is resumed
I am free to do as I wish.