Easily slipping through —

— a boredom primarily coated
birthed by a restless mind
heart that is oyster-locked
by fine-tuning levity

and an abyss of decadent gloriously expectantly thinkingyou are murderous in your bounded bondage of brain and lung and feelings; turning like a train-wreck in denial: walking strong in the bosom of bereavement and cloyed stump the stupor in you has grown wickedly in prevailing the gasping idiocy of not understanding and the hopelessness though still being hopeful is caused by lack of routine lack of deed signed by a forgery being aside yourself and you are wondering what has happened and it occurs to you you prefer sleeping than to standing up or sitting down and that lain to leave the brain in a subconscious waltz is the easiness that which you can relate and patience has a prognosis  and you are licking it with a rabid tongue of wanting those and that and concupiscent cells in your anatomy long for the exhilarated walking up on the road trails of learning but still there are the war to wage from that part that prefers sleeping to motility hence the art of war is a must to understand this sloth of viscous determination the accomplishment of dabbling to amble along the adrenalin you and corrupt your X moral code which is instinctual in your oxytocin induced testosterone-oestrogen  vectors of peace and coordinating in high-fidelity:

: some piracy of brain cells
withholding smooth “feel good” hormonal flux
cancerous is the thin sleep
aids in heavy sleep
depression concocted by witches’ lore macbethan policy
or some faustian prank — fool eating pie and no demon bothering those guys
articulation
procrastination
high-rise
high-strung
fascination

cornering out my corneas  or irises that bloom into curtains that I can love and clothe my soul like a mughal-victorian apparel of sorts and I am here postponing, aggravating sheltering that which postulating my mess of a head kinda like string on remnants pearl on borderline salt water and I am thinking am I leaving oxygen or am I already dreaming of a body sans air requirements and it gets trickier and trickier to confess my confusions!

— my heart aches not; aches lot for dreams in the zone of comatose head
my limbs be wearied lots for the atrophy of obsolescent-thinking
nonsense I speak and bleed into things
tired yet moving
tired yet moving

a small ball-state pacing amongst supernovae .▬