Obscenity cavern, plastered with fucks, gives rise to the new age raised to bow low keep your head down, duck, tuck and roll. Whispered in stories, like the day it last rained, awash is the removal of freedom from failure, honesty and blame. Turncoats and bastards (that’s what they cry) mirrors twisted and cracking impossibly contorting as futility sighs. At long last there is sense, (though it echoes too loud) in the canyons of absence where each of the dead is everlastingly proud.
Powerful, beautiful, moving and thought provoking even to a full mind like mine which usually misses the nuances of sexism in our daily cultural interplay. Great piece from a talented writer. #whisperandtheroar #kellyglover
Hat trick pony across the line, shepherded wisdom you felt was fine. Triumph and fall away don’t presume your sacrilegious idolatry on me. Priming pumps at the Chaos Madcap shoplifting tears having a panic attack. Raze the Earth come all blue destination choke back for our school. Anti-hero rapture chord in flight pulled on so loosely now cinched up tight. Bargaining with soul to sell minister no more hearts and regrets in hell. Hardcore stomps and tromps on you confinement time in a human zoo. We’ve got no more noise but slaves to quell freedom squandered, no one spent it well.