Forged at the junction of snoring memories
Embers of inspiration bellowed alive by inks of false swipes
Lungs of reinforced bars
Emotions tossed into the atlantic jungle - come,let's seek the lost treasure
Boosted with false truthfulness
Originality hinged upon bias like the monkey on a tree
How long shall this ego be massaged by the hands of apparition?
For in this paradise,
the gentle phallus begins its metamorphosis
The flow of monthly painful joy
The tears of innocent petals dripping from friction
Creative thighs telling truthful tales of countless generation; who is a better bard?
Docile are her lips
Numb are her thoughts
Lame are her actions
"Do as you are told"
"In obedience you should be bold"
This pure energetic conscience is yanked off from exploration like a stalk saluted by the gleaming length of the angry sword
Bought and handed over; a living gift who screams silence.