Goodmorning, Glory

spinal joy

The Libertine

causing, the noise and producing the way it is structured, this process always seems to compel me, wonder what the sense of physicality, well the presence of matter, why must it force itself upon the contingent strings of the concerto, this symphonic rhythm, of complete and utter dismay, acknowledgement of the use and the useless, I am in the body of a note, the last note of the young and old composer in Berlin, Vienna, Germany, I am in the physical state of his chord strike, the libretto of his opera and the adagio’s composition, I am all of this, wrapped in a brown hue, of, of, confusion, depth, death, man suicidal tendencies, monarchial control, uncontrollable rage, passionate gifts, inexplicably provocative hues, and the sounds you hear when the last drink, sends your brain, to the sensory abyss. I am the druggie’s best target, I am the costume of despair, the mood in the middle of the night, that leaves your pillow, gasping for air, as you drown its cerebral with tears of unrest and indecisiveness. I am the breath of the last argument before he/she felt to much and never returned the  next day, the mistakable assault, of the all of the children on the playground, verbally tossing emotions, so there is little room to breathe in self preservation, I am the last thought, before the end, I am the child, I am your child, take care of this.

Where did I go, all I know is that I am forever more chasing sorrow and losing the race to happiness, the signature of an almost lost soldier who, loses mania and gains, demented spirits, for the explainable cases of genius, I am always crying and I will never stop… Jamari……can I ask you a question, please.