does everybody share this disease?

a bath of crushed flowers consumed alive

in this batch we testify what ails and laments

protest louder

prod, twist, ban

perk up from a swift nap

hashtag 'at least there was hope'

confirming the span and timer

the framework we came to waste

upon the rot of a silly defecated cadaver

stinking the goddamm space.

the wrong shade of white

discoloured bottles disconnect agony

from pain as we try to get better

days fly by-a-bye carelessly

disfigurative memory construct me a bridge

to navigate this ocean of hands in the push and pull

the core of the question does not translate in my mother tongue

I remain a dirty imigrant and my status paralyzes my actions

for I drown in the excuses lent to me and therefore I feel bitter

as I lean, coasting with padded breath towards my conceived brothers in arms

the antidote is just so dull and bitter on the tongue

chop off the script the fucked up bits off TV and that just might be hella' entertaining

as long as it does not imitate me.

true defience is holding truth in silence because violence has me awash with shame;

a nerve made plain, ashore and on display

second best and in compare

half-whole, shared soul

bound to turn sour in sinister

insidious ways, walking calm

collected, impending felt

doom: like children, heard, never seen

a tale given a tall spin

to cast a spell and dart the darker times

asunder, on the lap of the elder storyteller

for he had kind eyes and a gentle voice

and just about all that will suffice in my time of need.