The Allium Rancor of Culprit Tuesdays in Multiverse Time

a standard cliff dancing against the windblown stanzas of clouds of matadors
a bull of stars is either facing towards you or away from you
there are no culprit Tuesdays at work towards the deliverance of your instincts
there was once a collective known truth and all obeyed, all conceded
all still know this truth, it is adamant, it is known, but some ignore it willfully
there are stalwart pleas for mercy upon the fractured seat that sears today’s breast
the heat is the fractionation of a process-response system like tears in the sodium
a rara avis heap of stolen-wastebasket-governing souls-in-the-memory-retention
where did all the dispelled passion give itself up like culprit Tuesday feeders

common flowers divining God on tape, in video sessions in booths of plexiglass
where worldwide witnesses see an absence of conclusion or resolution
no, no divine circles will be dancing upon the fractured seat of common kings
no resolution for divining witnesses like grocery store bought sledgehammers
chasing sons in the showers too long, no meaning to the dislocation, long-acting
whether Estremadura reserves seek secrets like tailored myths to this secret life
we are only melodies of this life, one at a time, an era where we were fated to belong
among the multiverse simultaneous with all given time that we could exist in
God placed us here for a reason, whether that be to our advantage or not is ours to make

the real test is how we respond to the circumstance we find ourselves in
the captured behavior of strengthened character, except that God already knew us