This barren wind erratically driven through the streets rains down like a distraught plague and behind me stand idled eyes searching me deep. To the point of this chronic sound bite reserving my solemn anxiety and ingenious oblivion exposing my composure to break down in dismay.

Ok ,  so maybe I cannot relate to this through a simplistic aura of poetry but the criss cross of abrasive words corrode my brain like a switch light , daring you to desist my empathy and burn me in effigy. I plead in inflamed and outspoken verse the way it is born in me. Everyone is my adversary in a planet of written words so I don’t judge quick with distrait beliefs. I don’t mean to be the killjoy in the midst of distorted prose or abandon the hopeless point of this story but I write how and what I know.

Color me anamorphous because the veracity relies on where we stand and in the daft eyes of society’s view I reside on the other side of the line. Me and this harlot of Madison dance the habanera in abstained ode to our lovers radical vindications.

Sometimes the muse betrays me with analytical verbiage and this all strains to become any less meaningful. These lines are like the Morse code that follows the rhythm in me , tap dancing off my pen and into oblivious blank pages. A decorator of words trying to map out the next check mate in written pretense. In one’s own right , we reinvent the theme and convey through our own words the internal message in abstract advocacy. So let your rape hearted stories convict the minds of stupefied callow pedagogues , erase the line of limited classicism and necromance the esthete in restitution.