TURN AROUND

TURN AROUND

systematically we elapse (relax?) into a sentimental detriment of

lost cause. So easy, too easy, if one believes one is giving

it the all. Hatred sits too frantically, and habitual, to stand

out as any cause, and there is pause and technicality

in a banal that won’t exist.  Insist some and doubt the

 other is a total reversal of all that’s to think, or to be

gained by thought. Thought is a pushover, a weakling, the

 shouted bully, self- promoted in praise of all the thoughts

 he has thought. He drinks, and we take, thinking

 abundantly of prompt.  But there are no wishes here, no

 thinking, or ruminating , that remains, and is, here. If one

 wants here to produce, in vain of vacuumly. Scrutiny

 and sycophant both ask to be left inside, and nature like,

an adversity reaps its difference in the squall. We have done

 it only for doing it, we are what we claim to be, not be to

 aim, not here to claim. At the knowledge of my

resistance I recognise I am the same

and conquer(ed?) me….

like a bionic game, a refusal in the dorsal, the all prettiness a whimpered dryness and reversion, revulsion, diversion and repulsion. Scream out a memory that this life can be named………..and distance……..and removal…..again.

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