survival fragile tense dependent upon so many things...

so long the golden days, days that we never even asked for, we are pleased with shiny metal found in the gutter, reflecting sun beneath layer of trash sediment,...

feelings are beautiful weaknesses, my anger becomes greatest when they are exploited...

so much tho i must teach myself of not learning these emotions, even of outrage at suffering, because simple quiet action is all that matters... there are times of release, and they are prepared for, but this is already over, and we already reminiscent of being there...

this is ours...the breathing of the pursed frantic then smoothing lips - the wonder children of all this atomic expansion - and i simply don't care...it's just day to day, but not, but not so urgent and racing toward death, not that anymore so much, thank goodness, and i still don't know anything, but it seems i have a tender living with my most fantastical dreams as my life, so despite the everything unbearable sometimes, there is something larger...even if it is a black hole in my mind, that can devour any linear occurrance and metaphysicize it into the speck before time... there is somthing larger, tho i struggle to retain its addicting gloss to my everyday...and what i may deem the ultimate is nothing more than a small accomplishment of carving another notch into the calender of stretched ahead forever days,...and nights of the torturous dragging silence...