When yielding

Pieces little scores mosaic of a brain-hunk.
The thinkers soggied their faces in the swill.
Hand of Lazarus he shook his cartilage out.
What the people did they trampled them stoned.
Them was dark the sunlight had the rent due.
Stored the free atoms they drift like gliomas.
Now as time insomniacs puzzled over a passage.
God’s abusive monologue never sang to its kid.
On God’s finger effeminate as the hip gait.
Borowski’s camp in the center of it long.
Reeling mind in corner the wheel is going.
Launderers know nothing knowing nothing young.
The hostile arrangement of primate features.
The undoing thereof how good people halt it.


~ by Jeremy on April 1, 2012.

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