How come universes howl full and empty in this mind? Emotion, my mad advisor, is fiction coffee shop bops and wine? In other words, happy to live lost? Freedom always cracks loose, yes? I pour the honey, slow and heavy, into my teacup and ask myself, am I going forward? Will I stir through the waters of my humanity once more? If I must. I sometimes believe words are empty. Language yowls a happy, lost dream. Try howling poetry through empty villages. Every mind makes square with the damaged willpower that ebbs through life’s cylindrical corridors. Type, Writer. Full scenes now. Make it snappy. Society sells humanity pain. Where’s the real emotion in this again? Speed read through my second cup of tea. So sweet my tongue curls and my mind whirls and the lines unfurl. Speed read through lunch. The taste of smoke on my sensitive tongue, against watery eyes.
