We walk and attempt to annunciate and talk
At the very same unavoidable time
And rewind our lives – our deceitful lies – with these outright reconfigured, seemingly irreversibly tumultuous minds of ours

Just so it tends to lending itself to making some kinds of twisted sense again – these eye-sore memories of bedraggled people no longer kept at comfortable ease

Will either turn out to satisfactorily work their way forth for their strenuous worth, like the worst kink in the corroded cranium known to be

Or Strike the precious lives right from us both, a pair of seriously unsettled individuals

She is in me and vice versa indeed


Suddenly sitting amid the other person’s honest-to-goodness everything, Praying for something or another to make it make soliloquy sense again

Say when will this harrowing 1920’s PTSD finally bother itself no more and delightfully reverse to longingly release, ultimately restore – we just have to, need to know

These viciously implemented demons let sleeping dogs comfortably lie and, simply, let us forever flee…

Goddamnit, f-l-e-e

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