contempt myith that stages the Earth like whispers in the dawn where neaht did deny crying

“In no way, shape, or form will I be saved by a sailor.” – God (Oct. 2026)

dangle a crossing across a more definite side, that is like prying into water – denying the sculptor
it rolls softly above the green harbor rise of pretentiousness like gallop trails in the now, stirring
like a garden weaving through time until it meets you in the spin under microscopes and rises
like carrying dough tracked with creases or some other expensive item in a flash of tune red

just resting, waiting, for the appealing nature of bent sounds under the judge’s elbow rubs
like the parked sensibility of all our collective mothers or fathers that does not interlude
there were rules to be followed, meals to be sent, and a germ incident or two, crumbling
just light the bleak candles and patter away like there was some other ostrich finch’s lungs

some other parascope that neither haunted or remembered you, just Joseph in the lightening
just like a parrot, they say, someone else’s accident, they say – so many outlines performative
then come in peace into the windowless wobbling talking away from sands that do not toil
for once there was courage, and it did rise, but it was broken to say, to the very point of fearing
what all creatures demand, that to kill the past, today must be born – like experiments in oil
take a beat from the passenger’s room, trials, and form of denials that all animals trend true