If, We May Comprehend
By Convolution
If I were made to break apart, I pray the gods would at this moment commit this justice, and bring my damaged destiny to foment. If I wished to break my heart, We would make no sense, as we do not now, and set our world askew of convention for the simple sake of that illustrious state of joy's sane retention. If I tried to sate my art, I would never try again for failure, trembling in my conscious distrust of life's burning thrust of dissociative tincture. If I ever reached my star, I would grasp its edges for life, dearest, with shattered fingers, and look calmly on the cosmos, nearest. If I, the heavens, clearly marred, We would snuff my flame, as we cannot now, and make our heavens cleansed of my mention for the endearing wake of celestial lakes which can grab hold of God's attention. And if my questions have pushed you afar, I would never ask again for sorrow, calmly killing myself in remorse for my inflammatory discourse and would be gone the birth of morrow. Written September 10th, 2001 © on Sep 10 2001 01:23 PM PST 18 • 0 • 12
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"If I were made to break apart,..."