Been a while since I wrote one of these, since I'm doing them for the slowed down 45s I post and nothing else. I don't love this one, but I also don't hate it, but also it mostly make me wish I was sitting in the river, or at least dipping in it right quick to let the cold blast shock me to my better senses. Shit, I should've made that part of the sonnet.
To reverse negative stream of consciousness flow,
occasionally boom baptize the flesh in fresh
river water, to let the mind's dirt and grime go.
No body resists immense threat of life's immesh
occasionally boom baptize the flesh in fresh
river water, to let the mind's dirt and grime go.
No body resists immense threat of life's immesh
amidst the tangles of physical existence...
our nature is complicated (yet simply so).
The tumbleweed of perceived traumas' insistence
snarls thinking up in squiggly lines, which seems to grow
our nature is complicated (yet simply so).
The tumbleweed of perceived traumas' insistence
snarls thinking up in squiggly lines, which seems to grow
as our dreams let go. But the river carries hope
in constant trickle which cuts through the thickest rock.
This superficial life becomes too hard to cope
with, but dips in Rockfish and James maintains my cock
in constant trickle which cuts through the thickest rock.
This superficial life becomes too hard to cope
with, but dips in Rockfish and James maintains my cock
surety to survive uncertain universe
another inhumane day, for better or worse.
another inhumane day, for better or worse.
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