Monday, December 10, 2012

Repentance

                              There rose an indignant famine throughout an certain eastern coastal region; great winds whirled in from the vast Atlantic perimeter, spreading dormant fatigue upon our belligerent Sunday populace- moist and fertile clouds surrounded an grayish tempest; windswept glaciers capsized minute attempts at vague productivity; olde wintry days of Howl surrounded bedridden February.
                                        St. Valentine shot me up with tepid sedative; hypodermic evening milk embalmed our collective subconscious, along vintage county-lines of maladjusted angels.
                                   I've spoken to you and through you soberly, returned immersed in euphoric complacency. Ice-sculpted edifices of cold hungry peasants grimace year-round, we cursed pleasant springtime premonitions, fervently piled decayed bodies atop sweltering dog-days of August insipidity .
                           
                                (A village circle's circumference; bag-women hang their heads in dreadful tiding)
                         
                              Come, come Evangelia; the plaza fountain is frozen now and forever. Vulturous civilians only sigh in passing; transient messages delivered promptly through our father by eternal Pharisees - we currently warm icicle fingers atop street-line sewer drains in stale anticipation; pridefully awaiting the thief who'll lift our hollow spirits back to hell;
                 
                                          In the juvenescence of the year came Christ the tiger
                                 
                                   Warped metal breathes in prolonged intervals of leap-year lineage.
                            Neighborhood ancestry speaks in vacated warehouse tongues, to interwoven city-street corners in residential evening. Prodigal shopkeepers and timorous entrepreneurs hastily scurry along cement sidewalk surfaces, smudging mindlessly toward flickering holiday traffic-light conflagrations. Daylight saving denizens; diseased souls possessing corporeal corpses- unselfconsciously sacrificing personal ends with society's primeval means.
                            4 p.m.; a lulled hush scowls from an remote streetcar rasping down distant avenues. On the fourth-story floor of an section-eight infested tenement, death subsides in humanly initiation. Victorian windows open out onto an slumbering evening courtyard, carpeted in petaled auburn grassland among withered tree-trunk-skeletons.
                            A season dead within a season's cycle. Frail beginnings commence reluctantly into an desirable abundance, an necessary end to our worldly wants and desires.
                            Our fathers flesh for only our sake; we'll continue to hate beyond possible perception. This misconception is designed to take us out until the end, \
                                          and it will
                                            as it has
                                              and will continue
                                                   until an perpetual end
                                                        unimaginably agonizing and torturous
                                                         an end we knew whilst living
                                                          and nothing
                                                               more and
                                                                  more of
                                                                     nothing....
              
                   
                                    (repentance)

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