Filtering System #1

and then the seas parted ways in a futile exercise in the name of a man and a horse on its way to the crossing, the roads intertwine for the bleak and the new and all that stand inbetween, a figure and a holy glow is all that is needed for riches and wealth beyond an expanse of dream and of fantasy, all is well whenever all are afraid and one guides the misled and the confused to a would-be salvation, all who pray and belong can feel at ease while the man above laughs in the face of the clouds, while I stare away and scribble endlessly I wonder what the other side tastes like, where she may be wandering and what exactly she thinks of me, what secrets are kept and why they're hidden from the likes of me, all this burning curiosity is what an open stitch is there for, a man writes so that he may relieve the pressure that pushes downward and cracks his skull in seven different places, no man and no woman can withstand the every day incognito that our overlords sprinkle about us, things that are hidden and kept secret are inevitably exposed and the shock is always far too much to bear, I can't understand the certain legal and illegal justifications about this and that or those and these, all these stupid petty things kept under such close detail make life that much less intriguing and that much more predictable, at least until you're secured for your parole or your sentence or your death penalty, anything left to be said can be submitted in writing and burnt to a subtle crisp in the bottom of the stove... where all good ideas should go.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

A way to relieve the writer's urge without frustration or a need for structure.

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