Translated…
How Many Inches from
The Earth is the Disbelieving Citizens’
Faiths
not my photograph…
With the Torn Up Tees
People Who are, Begging to be Looked Upon with Regards
To Evade the Thunder-Struck of Fate
Keeping the Exact Same Postures
Squatted Down, in the Darkness of Hell
not my artwork…
This Dream, that Can’t be Fast-Forwarded
It’d Made Us, Gain that Bitter Understanding
By the Passing of Each and Every Single Second
Who Didn’t
Laugh Like This, Or Loved
Whether if You’re the Shrimp with the Head Pulled Off
Of the Fishes, with the Guts, Gutted Out of You………
The Lone Branch, Hanging on by a Thread by that Cliff
The Night that Simply Can’t Get Fixed
By the Stars
not my artwork still…
With the Knife’s Tip Turned Upward
Pretending that Everything is Still & All-Right
Who’s Not, Clinging on, Tighter by the Minute ———
With the Risk
Of Losing One’s Own
Final Bit of
Innocence
So, once that innocence is lost, you can’t, EVER get it back, no matter what you do, and, in this life, we’re all, losing a little bit more of our innocence, with the passing of each and every day, until one day, we’d completely, lost, every single LAST speck of innocence we have about us.
Life, the Obstacle Course 