Operation: Work; Lift-Face
by Folly· from Resist Convenience
Hand-fed triumph, spoils.
Battles which you can't recall fighting in this fancies your fit.
You've settled down for a long winter's nap; simply gronw tried of cheap thrills,
but it's been years upon years of craving simplicities.
Oh, the knavery/depravity!
Sentences become paragraphs become novels on cold fronts, warm backs.
And this town needs an anema.
I'll pass the time with a rhythem and a rhyme. That rhyme needs a good once over,
but I'm no joker.
I've seen people explode.
Pieces!
You can't kill what's already dead.
Subconscious white noise mauls prose.
Odd, superflous sounds.
This is a physical challenge,
well-beyond a doube dare.
Commit to a legacy.
On with all the fireworks and the parades. God-Willing a momentum of silence.
Silence!
It's what we'll all eventually have in common.