overflowing saturation

of these sensations killing me

put all my eggs in one basket and now

desperation and insatiable cravings

are killing me

I try to avoid all these feelings

and the boring cliches they represent

but the fucked up self evident realization

is that feeling shit is not something

I’m all that good at

not knowing what the sensations in my

cracked open chest should oblige me

to feel like casting aside all others

and shattering this oblivious

ebony sky whose lines I’ve

mapped forever

taking time to chart the course

of course I’m bleating out inconsistencies

like a far flung beast of burden

with two horns

no craven image carved into this

sacred heart beating within my

cage where breeding just represents

the lack of my livelihood and

seeping and creeping shallow cuts

to misbehaving



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