Writing long words with short meanings leaning towards obscured feeling.
I am dreaming, do not wake me or take me for a fool. Let me drool upon my pillow, let me struggle with my willow as I set sail and bellow at the top of my lungs “Today I will do well and I shall not be hung”

The clinging struggle upon my expression, without depressions or false impressions, is learning a lesson with every letter to counteract inward repression from the outer world recession.

I am a man, not a girl, I am steel, not a pearl, I am your disease, not a germ, and I am the rain, not a worm.  Now watch me squirm and shake out my freedom, choked at the neck and bleeding for my eardrum until the man is reduced to a pile of rubble, until the metal is melted down to flaccid, until sickness is reduced down to ashes, and the rain is nothing more than a series of wet patches.

Watch me rise with surprise, see my truth turning within your eyes, my silence firmly planted within my cries and joining the ranks of those in success woefully despised. But triumph is fleeting, victories reduced to beatings and so I will keep sleeping and cheating myself of the realities of a world that never promised anything but my defeating.


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