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the hungry optimist
in a life built less on looking back, i'm starving for a bright october to introduce a pastel scene bursting with burmese champagne into concave anomalies that rhyme with nature's melodies, like persistance so insistant on keeping me in tune with crashing sounds that copy clouds right across the red horizon, pushing passion so discretely into the dark abyss of vast unconciousness that is detailed with invigorating motion and insinutating visions of aesthetic apprehension so niave and make believe that it cannot be perceived so simply but disguised as masked imagination. the finite is more dubious than infinitie's facsimilie of indifferent arguments that make the fake seem real as if the real is even any different from the analog of reason and the rights we justify so incoherently as items of the purest demographic that is outlined as organic but defined as pornographic in a farce of some society that claims to choose democracy and yet mocks itself inherently until it can't scream amnesty so instead it cries for victory against some unseen enemy the weak attempt of brute conquest that deconstructs instincts of trust until they all believe us and eventually become us. such a pity they don't know.
