. . . play me a whisper
. . . leave that ground and touch my sole
where I needed to reminded that I may lay
. . . to make my mind a fertile soil of evil lust among women
that always makes me more wanting of such sin,
not against them for I am always left dried and soulless
in the absence of what should be what love was meant to be.
Always thereafter and hereafter,
the now and then of things that never stops
You once told civilization,
You still give them every chance they get,
in everything they will fuck up and keep trying,
You have at us our significance,
You have us at our point of non existence.
Still you are here beside,
not just for me,
Still I am baffled why do even make use
of names and constructs to measure you,
or even a stupidity of worshipping such nonsense.
When we all can work with and beside.
What are you anyway?
My mind was on my mind.
All of those stressful stress never seems to go away.
and does end all of these stress and will at least stop,
when the brain flex into a mind that has no mind at all.
Thus the world had crept in me while I slept.
Into the night of my dreams,
left me washed not with my tears,
pain used me nothing more as a means to live on.
Guided my wrongness into a righteous thinking,
that challenged all of my tenses,
into all of reversed senses.