Clamor

Living in marmoset dreams or leaves beneath trees
Redundant I know, how else am I going
On and on to find to right my written springing upon
Some single high note thereabouts?

A sign of knowledgable time:
Voidware prohibited. 

We are all closet homo-sapiens screaming on dirt streets
Rode, thinking, erode (no spank) exposures or expeditions
And A giant S severing the male malevolence. 

Just as incurring snot orgy discord of innocuous 
Cyst putrid darkly cornering sequence of monetone
Invalid scraping dig, cut, borrow, uplift, downgrade, electrocute, resuscitate.  

Cut this umbilicus; I sense a frequency of naught, a cordial inversion: never knot. 

Feel it, stuck sucked in a land of negative, open sores and crisp finger frost distracted. They hate me, they hate me. Or if they have no feelings: the cold has cut them short for sure they will recognize a friend, wandering the dark corners for sure they will stop freezing all my outsides and striking disease at my in. 

Very similar to antiharmonics. Verisimilitude. This candle lights my path; but still fingers reach behind my hair in a place adjacent to memory. This is where we first discovered sound, where we precisely scattered electricity and placidly uplifted antitheses. 

Try this on for size: a gigantic memoir, a bestiary, gutfull draught, no, gush; a font, oversized load, a blink, blister or beacon of hole, questions tied together with oblivionic cursive apprehensive and assuredly buoyant, cluster of opal, shimmer of going. Be these as they may, if there is that or these for me, may I protractively exclaim that I am doing that thing i do between dreams.