Ghostly white and turning blue
It's not hard to construe
That this would happen, already knew
Among the many, I was with the few
Where sorrow and agony grew
Sliced my skin open so my spirit flew

Discombobulated and flabbergasted, flummoxed indeed?  No such bemused and befuddled?  I am not perplexed on the prognosis to prospectus.  They’re incongruous, I’m incredulous, it’s catawampus.  Reconnaissance reconnoiter,  rectilinear reciprocal rectitude.  Radix repartee: Down here at the bizarre bazaar we all believe in the blasphemous farcical fugue-ness, estranged ensemble orchestrations and all.  Some of us are even into the various assorted forms of related stranger weirdness.  We’ll be having none of this putrid quasi queasy.  Corrupt costume counselor siren skeptic.  None of you ignominiously pusillanimous incorrigibles who aren’t brave enough to love are required.

Another morning rolling over
left with nothing but refuse
close to hand
Another mourning over bodies
left to nothing but rolling
endless land
Could I feel the moment less lonely
I would appreciate your face
but where are all the others
who pull us out of our space
to reinvigorate the closeness?
I'm hopeless, I know,
distraught forever over
homes I'll never know
as well as the scenarios
I step into to shoulder
the weight I cannot lift myself

Wander on,
Walk N'shora sharing sights
between four eyes that I
would rather two,
but you,
keep me holding close
the fear of how
you would construe
the whole without
the words you need
that choke me