the days when depression grips tightly in that lovers embrace of tragedy beguiling the effervescent waves of wildflowers and pomegranate daydreaming when she clutches the back of your neck with sharp talons breaking flesh in crescent moon shaped reminders of how there is so very little that remains in this world that can match her fathomless depth of despair in desperate notes ringing across the cries of the whipoorwill in the night ripples race from the point of impact that one solitary blip on the radar of pubescent longing

i have taken to putting things off until they are dire or risk expiring wiring the lonesome blues across incandescent satellite arraignments to shoot through the withering dismay of the comets merry gambit of icy incontinence professionally amateur at the soft art of crastination in the face of the tidal swell and heaving bosom of existential nightmares

and i am so full near to bursting with words as this manic impression of frantic interpretive dance by invertebrates flops its way across the puka shell stage with flickering torches to light the way into this goddamned parody of living even if this parody is an accurate and wholly real display of every fucking day of my sad little life and i am tired yet cannot sleep and i am awake yet cannot bare to be when the wisp of heartcraft flutters in the empty stomach of dreamstench


and now for something

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