Theirs are the minds that told their own stilted story of all guts and NO Glory/ the preachers, (may as well be dead) beat-poets with OCD who just will NOT get out of their own way; too much pain had drained each homeless, henceforth homesick individual ceaselessly dry. Albeit, in their mind’s eye can often ‘lie’- an advancing and artistic sense of forward-thinking bliss. These are the same SANE people who watch-and-wait for thankless time to dutifully late night EVAPORATE!
And, then.. with each of every next dank curtain drawn AND to within a strenuous inch of its early-MORNING yawn, a cradled, cReAtiVe EXPLOSION takes plACE.
Bless their angered, AGITATED and ordinarily fixated faces- for what EXACTLY in the name of fuck(!!!) they have ST(ILL) been able to unequivocally CrEaTe —
Here she sits, obliquely telling you… “SHE KNEW!” Oh, how she fucking knew… her very own mInD only too well
Even if she’s been placed under an ocd spell.
