this will be altered with interruptions, dear

what does it matter to contradict

the parasites of our nature

when they'll only align akin

to the soldiers that save us

infantry infancy

this gun on my arm might just be

the calamity transported

wishing to be transcended

by the might of cavalry corronation

but when I berate the fallacies

I admit being one so what gives

but empty flagellation

so I got out of the circle

well done mother and all my mighty disciples

I ain't got no grief to perspire from

so nothing

nothing

it was all too easy

and saying this I admit it is

and with it the grace of being

what with it

what meaning to derive from the peace

acquired, admitted

it will all be fine be well, be good

when the shadows become part of the form

or in less allegory the demons euthanised my soul

or the other way round who knows

calamity, bounteous this day, night, evening

what porter portends to forfend the rules of the guest

if he ain't got no liquor to offer

or benevolence

yes it will be fine this a test

respond one two to the RKO defunct

of the dead letters of my soul

disenfranchised from its predecessors

what gives, really to the interrogation of contentment

if all it is you wanted you got

the cake, frosting and vindictive cherry who thought

it would confit its way to the top

delirious bile

vanished into a gentle smile

or not

what is kind in me but the intention to be good

and in the process all the synapses of the animal to be understood

glory, glory

to those without the struggle to possess the faith

of no god I speak but that of good

for the struggle is a blessing bringing forth light and dreamscapes of rich illuminations

and I accept the gift but felt undeserv'ed

and in that feeling I feel sin

deep within the womb of dismantled cadaverity

mary

of the magdalen unity you should know the answer and guide

for what would the virgin know of the plight of humanity

because sacrifice is not our own to give voluntarily

mercy

on my proud creature of occasional adolescent perfidy

which I do not mean to annul and perhaps categorize too hastily

but a slice, a spill, a sigh of my being is always less

than the entity it pertains to, surely-

all I know is love but the response to hate if build within my blood

and past trying to distill it past injury

I just wish to be good without intentionality

so apologies for drinking too much blood

and thus extinguishing your vital offerings

I will axe the abscess in sobering up

from the lucidity of antioxidants

nature, science, god

could it not all be the same in the end

and save us all from the torment tornado of the horseradish racing up into our heads?

yes yes all too earnest and fresh

with the steaming convulsions of spontaneity

count this not a narrative but a parenthesis

not to excuse nor correct

but admit of its half witted creation

really

what gives with streaming the bass couture of half waning perspicacity