thee who withers to obtain senility
invites tear, cries out, the light, the shame.
if to squeeze in what may bleed, believe,
but will observe, subserve, and face rule to deliver.
know not in what falls beyond sagacity,
a propensity which mollifies pleasure, eternal.
behold discovery and evanescence, again,
appurtenant… truth and pain.
the sustenance that’s breath, blithe, not broached,
survives then, and, within. plunging toward discord
and insidious entrapment, assuaged by atavistic
instinct, cordiality, and a strange sense of reverie.
Officially the most tattooed man in the world, you see, Lucky.
IMPERILED BY INIQUITY.
PLAGUED BY PERPLEXITY.
MANACLED BY TYRANNY.
FORTIFIED BY POSTERITY.
FREEDOM.
WORLD ENGLISH DICTIONARY
STARE vb : to look or gaze fixedly, often with hostility or rudeness.
“Don’t stare please, it’s extremely impolite”, she snarled. “Oh, I’m terribly sorry madam, I’ve told her countless times but please understand my child’s intentions are nothing untoward… in fact quite the contrary. It is, actually, a sense of curiosity that she possesses; a carnal interest imbued by the innumerable number of visual appearances exhibited throughout existence in this – anything but banal – troposphere of ours, is all” replied the primary care-giver, in haste, and defense.
Confused by this strangers sudden moroseness and the now piqued expression of a loved one, the child’s stare quickly ebbs from its naturally desired gaze and shifts into an act of uncontrollable quagmire – darting back and forth between the now darkened scene of violation and a solemn strand of hair that had somehow wedged itself upside the plastic window pane.
Why I ask, what invokes this feeling of discomfort, this awkward disposition among our being when there are in fact other parts of the globe where we – humans, have nurtured this very act and reap the benefits of a rather complex, yet brilliant, method of non-verbal communication.
Awoken, suddenly.
Suffocating.
Vehement hostility, confined, define, corrosive conception. It’s too early.
That dream, that force, that bedevilling… flatulence.
A deluge of lonesome nostalgia, forthcoming.
Inexpungible.
He lay.
“Urban_dad!” “Urban_dad!” Unimpressionable_child one, and two, wail, as they stumble through the excessively large doorway bringing the ‘lounge’ into a room of strikingly similar portion, and character.
The Unimpressionable_children, appearing to have saved the bulk of their energy for the emphatic entry performance, vomit half a kilo of (cement) sand, three filler words, and an impractical quantity of inconsumable leisure items onto the divine parquetry – of European_Oak, as it were.
Collective murmurs of “Sssssa” vehemently echo through the joists below, whilst distant sounds of cushions in an empty cafeteria, seep above.
The tantrumatic production by the Unimpressionable_children appeared to have had the desired effect on the, inserted epithet, lurking below; however, Urban_dad, who perhaps earlier mistook a vitamin C for a zany, sat still, and cross legged, mesmerized by his glowing lap.
Despotic (super) hero ‘Green Prong’ confronts depraved nemesis ‘Telephone man’,
in what appears to be, animation.
There, lies a tedious monotony threatening to invade the circumferential boundaries of our troposphere.
Here, bestirs a procreation coerced through societal suffocation and inability to express.
zicayda
Particularly wary of first impressions, or perhaps not… please, embrace the pleasure of pulsating retinas, and enjoy this magical photo:









