Poem #83

Drains remind me slender zoned is the passage from alive to loosed particle.
I enrich appended themes icing roamed over glutton mind schemes, no more really.
Only molecular configuration, chemistry with motives, gurus of nothing.
I bargain with entropy for more time, it’s going to be useless, won’t gird my natural inclination to undo, unbe.

My id drifter hunts interstates for comfort in sparse furnished mental motels.
There is an ugly isotope colliding with ideology everywhere I turn.
Irradiated, we stumble or gig or wish until the tired cells break down.
Police in masks made of nightshade rumors unwind our trajectory, disable our engines.
Keep on, we can only keep on through the night.

I am electrical signal wrapped in soft tissue, would like to be more glorious, fail now to bow.
But that isn’t so bad, is it?
To fade to static, unwind, break down, sleep is nothing more than practice.
It’s just so long, soundless, didn’t we expect to go on?

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