"In the weeds"

I used to have dreams i had all the tables in t once. In the chaos of captivity in the weeds

I recollect my Grammer nightmares are the kind of ….silent lucidityyyyyyyy. In the weeds

Its not

The devil lies

I am a quintuple agent, that taxes not only the peripheral wipe of the mornings-dusty eyes, but the immediate camel that burns my blood back to the act of ecstatic slumber that waits for no-one.

Heavy; out of place- white, hiding their paradolian shadows that were never there.

Subjective “Truths”, that only scholars without experience can prepare.

Crossing wires of different amplitude farmed by baby billionaires teething lust.

A naked- song reverberating tbrough the sharp; crescent gallows. Following a death affording the blackness of today's dusk.