A Surrealist Episode

The witching hour, when shadows transform into a menagerie of wild beasts & the imagination overcomes the so-called debate. Politics flutter and break like a butterfly out of chrysalis, transforming flags whipping loudly in the patriotic wind. Money burns on the sandy shores of a foregone hell & a hand basket fills itself with fruits & pleasant greens. Alcohol sucks down softly, a straw of memories too intoxicated to decipher the trail of delicate cells, spellbound & brainwashed in personal sputtered out beliefs.

Anarchy astute in the complexifying crumble of conversations, wide-eyed & grasping symposiums of stars aligned disjointed like the steps of little ants climbing hills & bees building a geometry of medicine sticky in harmonic sweetness.

I wish it was a dream, said the realist. I know it is a game, said the dreamer.

And a galaxy falls in crunching leaves, hidden beneath a pile of shit not scooped, smeared across a sidewalk cracked open by magic weeds & trees buckle riotous against imposed structure.

Somewhere, the aroma of a chimney mirrors an invisible signal, the armageddon is false.

The apocalypse is up in smoke.

The telltale end only decomposed & nourishing a frenzied beginning.

The trickle down of ancestral lines wrapping roots around bent knees seated nicely at desks chipping away at pixels. Digital statues chiseled in cyber consciousness like the knowledge of babies bound up in wombs feeding vibrations of data painted unfettered. The fetus a spirit, a faint skeleton curled up on black lit translucent canvas, dispersed into stillness before knowing a first breath.

Every human, the new human altering futurism. Remember.

A tattered page peeled roughly like dried bark whipped from a holster of prayers shot thru the air silently challenging the science of myth-making. Every bullet calls forth a rhetoric of fear snaked around humanity choking the young to life. The blood of blackness nurtures street tar & the rebellion of adults is sequestered by news anchors. A holy vision erupts in a tired blasphemy on repeat shedding light slowly dispersing the subtle flicks of tongues tipped in cognitive dissonance.

Another tragedy dispersed across the earth like ash & soot. Another martyr freed in a luster of hope. Another cloud full of rain tears up and releases itself.

And somehow, the sun rose, bright and plentiful like a field full of thorns. And somehow, the moon cascaded into darkness like a waterfall splashing the harshness of oceans.

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