Trigger

The new demands new approaches
The world too old,
Not to see the whisper beneath,

The clamor of the flicker behind,
The shortness glimmers
Between the stills

Spliced together the effect,
The film more real ,

For arts sake,
Or that the height in retro
Speckt , more,

Important than thought,
The trigger,
Aim, fire, many on battlefield deare
Shed in rivers of blood merely

So much of boys’ mere suffer, still
Now lost,

Causes lie now, like abandoned flowers over their graves so how could you feelin this not sustain the missing,

The link holding their breath to our bosom
The trigger of the diminishing glitter, of
The fading cause.

It’s too late of the echoes
Of guilt permeating non forgiveness, you must
Absolve yourself

Lest be too late.

If you hold her too near

She may recede, borders even within the great

Whose fog resists annihilation

Said Sphinx, in bloom.

Now she the damsel demurs, obliquely.
He says brutishly, lashing out,

"Well now, you get the sense of what real war consists, no holds barred, ivory towers, think tanks collapsing all around, paranoiacs running around now that they have been deprived of the programs.

What the hell, then, may question the insincerely, masquerading as only a true joker would,
Might as well question the very motives,
But it’s all based on,

What if’s,

It could really happen, or is really happening? Could cut out the heart, the absurd possible notion of it

That it’s already happening."

Do You know, that for some, the pen is mightier, and excluding all but the faintest shadow of doubt , I am fighting for my very existence into which you are also in tangled? If I go down You go, I take You with me. Catch.
22.

She, “Why don’t You fuck the shut up”