ox decathects

Crashed. Neighboring through
There. Unknown landing. Vehicular
Meditation, written. Off course …

Crowded drama. Had enough.
So I start another pieces set. 2
a night. Or day. Need another

Pour for peaces’ sake. Next solitude
stretch, I coffin all stress, all scatteredness.
All misdirected mess.

Madness. No hat. Pen, a
Battered bat. Obligated, but I
oscillated. Reciting rivetingly in

idealized ideation. Momentary
persuasion. No more evasion.

12/22/12

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mikemadigan

Writer/Blogger - bottledaux.com

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