floral torrent
The world spins the head of a flat-earther,
making theories out of a single thought and perspective.
Remove the ‘too much’ and drop off all commas.
Dot the sentences when foundationals fall through.
A broken axis confuses both sides to land randomly on impulse.
Too much of this and too much of that.
How is the topic supposed to move with no comeback?
False claims bomb the frame for art to grow.
Destroy their hearts to show what is carved and sewn.
No sources for nourishment; I guess I shall starve alone.
Under the stars, the bones decompose in the cold.
Even the littlest prove to be too much.
A loss of thought from the nonsense excess.
Rambunctious idiosyncrasy in the characteristic.
Distinct extras function as groovy stereo winds.
Too many tiers, too little to explain each intricacy.
Too little a fund to amount my sacrifices.
Old commitments become financial vice grips.
Too much a night of broken wallets,
and new promises must be compromised.
The old and new’s similarity: A want for life solo.
My own intentions are broken.
I hope that I never make it to hell, but the offer is open.
It is not often, my open mind had to close a lane.
Unload the strain, a brain in slow motion grinds to a halt.
The train of thought stopped on mid-journey tracks.
How am I going to make time when things take lives?
Scatter splattered paint violently on an empty canvas,
where am I shaping this clay frame — is up to interpretation.
Out of seconds to make a few minutes to delay myself.
My hands confessed, “This world has passed; no longer is it ours.
Too little, too late.
Would I be perfect on the opposite?
Powers to go grand with so much.
Too early to tell, but the plan is not out of touch.
Hourglasses in my eyes as I cried out of time-sake.
In love with the end, a lifetime is reloaded; take two.
desert frost
twin vigil
zinc furnace