dearly departed

now that you've reached this far
you might come to know

how you died
how you transformed
how you larvaed into this mirage

it's all a mirage
a desert image

you can pinch yourself
you can look yourself into your darkest mirror

creator loves all
and smashes the innocent (sometimes the not - human perspectice anyway)
the ants cross the trail
why, what happened
she was so good
why did god take

creation still loves
ingnorantly though

can't see all

fishing like you bastard fucking keys. whata a fucking site

I hate the navigation of this page.
what a curb in creative flow
should have just resorted to pen and pauper

by the time I got it running
(with a crank from the handle)
the engine is dulled by this prosaic process

familiar illuminative automatic
you. mankind. you cancer. you end.
engines run.
this is was and will be before
in fact the end has already happened to you

you remember setting on that lawn at that outdoor party
at the waterside
and you are

gone...................................................................