Open the flood gates!
Let loose the words pressing
Their flower as a rain dreaming
Of Materialist malaise.
O very good thou pain!
O very smart of you to grieve my thoughts
with no fame for your rights.
You overtake me with art.
You bar me with your night.
I scare myself teasing this truth from
My loss.
Guilt, thought, fear, nothing and God
Strengthen truth: the art of moments' destruction.
Woe to my folly.
I gear my thinking to open flowers
Whose drug I find loudly peaceful.
Sucking the lie is a nasty ache.
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