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( Into this page of my novel 181 are the poems : Save Me From My Comfort Zone and Insurrection )
Not enough time was paid on the outline, so we took off early to be at the waterfront. Eating and watching the sea gullies fly ahead of the wind where it lays this unusual loft near the base of the pillar. I remember vividly describing a delusion. Seeming as though I never got over the trauma, I dared myself to venture into the unknown. Stepping over the rust covered pipeline into the flush, it was just a few more feet before I could get myself upended. Standing along weak borders the light was terrible; you could hardly see anything except through the cracks and hinges along the trestle. There was this pretty ensemble. An onslaught when I touched the pentacle over my shirt. I tried to remember exactly what was it that I once said about the ghost in my throat crackling the pain. As long as it takes, as long as I didn’t give in with an inclination to leave I’ll stay here as long as possible. I know the nightmare must have let me loose pointing to the ground in agony. Is this authenticity or just another piece of fallacy? If I were able to discern the difference I wouldn’t be able to live with the heightened sense and familiarity of it all. Part of the runway near the border was marked with a verbal triangle, much the clandestine form but to the chagrin of anyone who can clearly see right through. Up above the niche, there’s this little crawlspace I had to get to. I’m saying to myself there has to be something, some evidence left behind but for me to rely upon; nothing, no trace or hieroglyph. I gave way and decided to exit the station acting as if I took an opiate and having to restrain myself in order to reassure her I was fine. I notice you have that special way about you. What is it? I had trouble getting the next word out, rubbernecking her shape and imperfection. I was going to say something and then I stopped. The pentagram is merely three lines across the shirt, representing distinction, penitence, the glory of exaction and reemergence. One of the earliest feelings of regret I ever had was on a day not dissimilar to day like this. The house was always empty and after a quick wash-up and spoon full of either oatmeal or cereal, they left me there to grow up by myself. But so what, my family life goes on without my feelings of fear, anger, under-appreciation and pettiness. Lean to pick yourself up and carry it with you, these feelings of grandeur. What makes a man, I asked unwittingly. She didn’t reply. I spent a lifetime trying to unravel these invariant things that encompass success. The train already left the station, leaving me alone taking with it a sense................
Not enough time was paid on the outline, so we took off early to be at the waterfront. Eating and watching the sea gullies fly ahead of the wind where it lays this unusual loft near the base of the pillar. I remember vividly describing a delusion. Seeming as though I never got over the trauma, I dared myself to venture into the unknown. Stepping over the rust covered pipeline into the flush, it was just a few more feet before I could get myself upended. Standing along weak borders the light was terrible; you could hardly see anything except through the cracks and hinges along the trestle. There was this pretty ensemble. An onslaught when I touched the pentacle over my shirt. I tried to remember exactly what was it that I once said about the ghost in my throat crackling the pain. As long as it takes, as long as I didn’t give in with an inclination to leave I’ll stay here as long as possible. I know the nightmare must have let me loose pointing to the ground in agony. Is this authenticity or just another piece of fallacy? If I were able to discern the difference I wouldn’t be able to live with the heightened sense and familiarity of it all. Part of the runway near the border was marked with a verbal triangle, much the clandestine form but to the chagrin of anyone who can clearly see right through. Up above the niche, there’s this little crawlspace I had to get to. I’m saying to myself there has to be something, some evidence left behind but for me to rely upon; nothing, no trace or hieroglyph. I gave way and decided to exit the station acting as if I took an opiate and having to restrain myself in order to reassure her I was fine. I notice you have that special way about you. What is it? I had trouble getting the next word out, rubbernecking her shape and imperfection. I was going to say something and then I stopped. The pentagram is merely three lines across the shirt, representing distinction, penitence, the glory of exaction and reemergence. One of the earliest feelings of regret I ever had was on a day not dissimilar to day like this. The house was always empty and after a quick wash-up and spoon full of either oatmeal or cereal, they left me there to grow up by myself. But so what, my family life goes on without my feelings of fear, anger, under-appreciation and pettiness. Lean to pick yourself up and carry it with you, these feelings of grandeur. What makes a man, I asked unwittingly. She didn’t reply. I spent a lifetime trying to unravel these invariant things that encompass success. The train already left the station, leaving me alone taking with it a sense................