A poem of thought

Alas, Coming to a head The stream buries me. Calamities Resound as barren mind washes away, Water Element. Frequency of sound vibrating your mass Healing mind, Freeing soul Beautiful but truth? Trees flower without your hand, Man... Planted in despair. Disease riddled, doubtful, drunk on air Perilous times best of the worst. We merry revellers of light despite the moons half glow. reflection of solaris. Dancing boys toil in hypnotic movements and Jesus heals the crown of thorns. The crowded masses trespass on our timid distinction of factions. Fact or fiction? Or is it mere fiction that my dereliction grows from my suspicion of you and your declaration of righteousness. Cigarettes a blazing For if we are the chosen ones . The sun and u and I. For tomorrow we die. Small fish are dried and the pinoy fries in the equatorial sun. Ha, how much fun could we b the one? To many rhymes can lead to delirious crimes. Hungover on smelling the masses crassness I've returned to take passes at all the jackasses. Dismayed at simpletons complexes I renounce my connection to your annexation of my energies You are no longer a friend of me- you are now a frienemy. I will keep you close enough, Can u smell my verbosity?