at starting things from nothing
rebellions fires relationships
just not perfect at continuing
or bringing them to conclusion
(and here we enter the medieval
castle of St. Steadfastnesses the absent
abbot of a small retail cheese business)
I’d rather the psychotic
than the boring when I look
back I seldom seem outside some
unconscious state posing awake
there are no thoughts in the past
not outmaneuvered by memory’s
various rehearsals wasn't the body
only meant to be a scaffold
to some amazing door or vessel
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