Tuesday, November 21, 2006


Satired attempt of release. I give in. I fall. . .
Still uncertain of radical advances in spirit: society’s breached birth of the familiar
Bound and gagged, clung electrical beauty transpired in beads of dis-pristine
I unravel. I create. Torn from all known peace in chaotic slumber I am preserved.
Raped. My sonata spent like the lost cries enveloped in mine own plasticity.
And I it cries. Cries for what it doesn’t know or understand
A seizured wall of insecurity left blind to the rest through mastery of illusion
Raped. Held. It smiles.

by christof

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