two masters.
2006-05-10 1:59 p.m.
repetitive, that feeling that i have managed (my whole weight in excess) in stumbling over the good compliments of others, only to forget the reason of that effort, a poor player at a priceless antique, working sounds but never making a melody out of the whole production.so, i have ruined the purpose of these instruments that were meant for better things, for stronger founded friendships, and i - a desolator, a defiler, and i - the king of kings' solution to what makes a test, and what keeps
other people from giving,
i have been bested, i live two lives, one
deskworthy and ready moving, a counter culture solution to those forms of disaster that i have lived through, founded on personal experience (here, i am my own benefactor, the creator of those terrors that still keep my eyes open, and responsible, after the point at which decision were developed, for my own lack - previously- of control)
the other
sequestered into beds and bunkers, has hung my hands up to the railing, and believing in the goodness in the garden, in the purpose of the saving, in the impulse and its circuitry of living, decides to pull
blood through heart and body
unconsciously.