Thursday, September 1, 2016

Self Consumption.

I try to walk diagonally
and hope for sciatica leave.
Get me up and out of here
stop eating this circular tear.
The step echoes wrong.
This world sung as requiem.
There was a shooting
in an online article.
There was a shooting
star hung from a sickle.
I attempt to be constructive
with my agency gone in a fifth.
Solipsism the everlasting prison.
Internal Sim City such elastic fun. 
How to apply the unthought...
as much gone awry as held taut...
So I figure no more oh wells
it fills a bottomless well as far as I can tell.