As the sides tangle with one other
my eye twitches with the other one;
such a surprise,
they convulse together.
The followers don't always make up the cult.
The cell may oppose the body.
The opposite is true of course:
The lifer screaming to be free of a locked room.
Always the same dilemma,
you get better at the expanse
between your head and your feet
while your current optimism
of the current within
positively drives you to discomfort.
Continuing a compulsion
in order to discontinue progress
towards all those intrusions swarming
around your heart like bees.
Cheers.
Good thoughts are scarce.
They bear through with honey,
they carelessly dispel with sting.
All them fuckers that fight
with one another within your chest.
Oh well,
we are a billion different cells.
We are more space than matter.
Each room inside us
contains a singularity.
Yet the reverb from yelling
escapes to join the multitude of vibrations
to coalesce into something undivided.
In harmony, some days,
in others, dissonant.
It is nice to know it can be sunny
despite the joy of being overcast.
