Sign signed shame, the burdensome writ
Soliloquy lies, false flag fandom courtesy of
The catachresis
Fictitious cult of a factually-not-so-correct
Smooth lines of intact empathy?
Whorehouse kneading bodies needing love…
Men wearing no armor, not even vestiges
Status symbols (+-)
Rise ↑↑↑ and fall ↓↓↓ like horologe hamartia
Secrets swell on still tongues, brush lips
But blood mews, it ALWAYS speaks
Stigmatic DeLiRiUm TrEmEnS hands shake
How many minutes until acedia?
How many mistakes until animadversion?
How many moments until my end?
Beginning all over again, taboo verboten
Heresy, ha, God forbid this benison shaming
Hatred smirks on ten-to-one odds off faces
Statistically speaking, the static of mores
How many more deserve blame?
Counting my blessings from palaver priests
The blessed and the beautiful, how luck fails
Every.
Final.
Instinct.
© Edward Swafford 2025
What the hell was this wall of words all about?! Press play to break it down as I elicit meaning and a cogent NARRATIVE from this story (or morning glory?)
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