I become something new so swiftly

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Humor  |  House: Booksie Classic
I wrote this quickly. That's all that can be really said about it. I apologize for not spacing it well. All things can be humor.

Submitted: July 21, 2012

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Submitted: July 21, 2012




I become something new so swiftly. I slip into the role I was brought here to play instantly under the slightest pressure. Sometimes I do well, other times I wish I had not learned such helplessness. I give myself to it in some hazy effort to retain consistency. A type of coherence appears to protect something just to the left of a lie. I tell myself that I must exhale desire, as there is nothing in the ever decreasing pool of desirability pinned down as to be a crouching boy’s toy to fiddle, the giant heating palms whooshing in the next revenue’s overconfident excitability. I extend a hand to ill eyes and wish my face away. The sharp windows and cracked frame, the outside seeming to hold in its gaze the mystery of inspirational escape to fulfilment, the windows are not sharp. I am sharp and cutting into myself, out juts the jaw and I clamp the teeth together.  These teeth cannot find their match. I must have reached a critical point and snapped into an infinite fraction of misalignment. I hurry to advice. I myself, I, therefore am yes and in destroying ego’s death, dead ego will bring life to the ego self’s lack of grasp on the nothingness that is in fact all that ever was. Now I am afraid, the knotted guts and chronic pains and the final detachment. The word has dragged itself onto the next page at the expense of form. I run away from my trail of crumbs and fall to cool my face in the mud. I move into the sun and bake the glory that cracks up at the plums of my open mouth.  

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