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Labirintitis of the “Crave”.
mgenthbjpafa21
Eight days of Hospitalary presence
Not by Dominican influence but for aggravated influenza
Respiratory complications bronquitis, bronco obliteration of any kind
As if anyhow I would really mind for a state out of a blank slate
A Tabula Rasa were agere or facere draw
Given the assumed nature of a flaw.
I was never a partisan of the kiss in the butt Theory
For they were erased by effect of their raising power
So orders coordinated were firstly implemented
Life is a transient state of reshaping order tending to reabsorption
We fictionate choices were there is no option
As I stand while lay in this bed of unending introspection.
Today the sun made its appearance above some clouds
And multitudes calculate with mathematical precision their whereabouts
I am localized on an epicenter of a quake
Leading to an assumption that may be a fake
But independently of outside influences never a path was chosen,
Just an addition of negative decisions
Leading to this quadrant of sad semblant
Framed by years of shallow or deeper tears.
Histoire de la Folie, some of Foulcault descriptions of humane treatments
Are reserved for my displeasure with new improved nuances
An itinerary well revealed as a menace self fulfilling
As I stand idle in this never ending threshold away from that time
Sold everyday, all those losses while I was astray, and those that still may
And surely will come next week or next may.
If scape is denied and a solitary hand should handle the spoon
Of endless repetition in an endless quest to avoid doom
If all my qualities fade leaving only the grotesque disposition of inertia
If others seem so distant and voices once heard have silenced
If Gnossiene n°1 is looping as a happy substitute
For the loud silence pace of the life of others, nix to groom,
If any attention to esthetics or intention of humanity
Is periodically assumed as unattainable and only sporadically envisioned
If the vacuity of these words leave love me not, lots of them embracing the wind
That has no memory nor realm except in our vain imagination
Chrysanthemums not related to empty rituals
Burials of ants and tales about giants,
Observations of measurements,
Theodolites ancient future rites,
Then even the dissenting keyboard AI, Word review
The sad beautiful anime movie that a team, team win,
Or any given number who have what I never have seen
Not a element of all that play is contributing for the humiliating English left above
Mere statement, incomprehensible vacuoles,
inescapable inscrutable holes,
Tower bells give out of time hours,
Next to McDonald’s where ubereats pick meals.
Outside ideally prefigured plans have turned into scams
And justice is not only a word but a deed done and served in exquisite plates.
The pain of writing leaves my arms numb
As compulsion not fulfilled to eat mandioca flower settles in
And my indecision extends the paranoia to swiftkey and Word,
For choosing one culprit for the nightmare of Word completion is to heavy
Even considering persistent compulsion source of so much futility
But never to actually achieve the envisioned humility
Or courage to erase all that has come from this dismantled incoherent
Product of Maté hungry ghosts realm, absurd,
As that Gabor M guy likes to point out and I recall
At the Thirteenth hour of another fourteenth day
A sort of God would look with a certain, detached, sad indifference
As I, incorrect, toxic, painful of forgotten ghosts
Lead the unfruitful, endlessly search for faithful hosts
Like a tsunami, a shock wave, immense but not so brave.
As the celestial sphere turns, labirintitis of the “Crave”.
Not by Dominican influence but for aggravated influenza
Respiratory complications bronquitis, bronco obliteration of any kind
As if anyhow I would really mind for a state out of a blank slate
A Tabula Rasa were agere or facere draw
Given the assumed nature of a flaw.
I was never a partisan of the kiss in the butt Theory
For they were erased by effect of their raising power
So orders coordinated were firstly implemented
Life is a transient state of reshaping order tending to reabsorption
We fictionate choices were there is no option
As I stand while lay in this bed of unending introspection.
Today the sun made its appearance above some clouds
And multitudes calculate with mathematical precision their whereabouts
I am localized on an epicenter of a quake
Leading to an assumption that may be a fake
But independently of outside influences never a path was chosen,
Just an addition of negative decisions
Leading to this quadrant of sad semblant
Framed by years of shallow or deeper tears.
Histoire de la Folie, some of Foulcault descriptions of humane treatments
Are reserved for my displeasure with new improved nuances
An itinerary well revealed as a menace self fulfilling
As I stand idle in this never ending threshold away from that time
Sold everyday, all those losses while I was astray, and those that still may
And surely will come next week or next may.
If scape is denied and a solitary hand should handle the spoon
Of endless repetition in an endless quest to avoid doom
If all my qualities fade leaving only the grotesque disposition of inertia
If others seem so distant and voices once heard have silenced
If Gnossiene n°1 is looping as a happy substitute
For the loud silence pace of the life of others, nix to groom,
If any attention to esthetics or intention of humanity
Is periodically assumed as unattainable and only sporadically envisioned
If the vacuity of these words leave love me not, lots of them embracing the wind
That has no memory nor realm except in our vain imagination
Chrysanthemums not related to empty rituals
Burials of ants and tales about giants,
Observations of measurements,
Theodolites ancient future rites,
Then even the dissenting keyboard AI, Word review
The sad beautiful anime movie that a team, team win,
Or any given number who have what I never have seen
Not a element of all that play is contributing for the humiliating English left above
Mere statement, incomprehensible vacuoles,
inescapable inscrutable holes,
Tower bells give out of time hours,
Next to McDonald’s where ubereats pick meals.
Outside ideally prefigured plans have turned into scams
And justice is not only a word but a deed done and served in exquisite plates.
The pain of writing leaves my arms numb
As compulsion not fulfilled to eat mandioca flower settles in
And my indecision extends the paranoia to swiftkey and Word,
For choosing one culprit for the nightmare of Word completion is to heavy
Even considering persistent compulsion source of so much futility
But never to actually achieve the envisioned humility
Or courage to erase all that has come from this dismantled incoherent
Product of Maté hungry ghosts realm, absurd,
As that Gabor M guy likes to point out and I recall
At the Thirteenth hour of another fourteenth day
A sort of God would look with a certain, detached, sad indifference
As I, incorrect, toxic, painful of forgotten ghosts
Lead the unfruitful, endlessly search for faithful hosts
Like a tsunami, a shock wave, immense but not so brave.
As the celestial sphere turns, labirintitis of the “Crave”.