cut up my lines

Cut up poem

independent and sway
spectrum proud
a key within an hour
playground of limits
wood poetry in reality
all that mattered
I love history for it will be the bucket
in which I will leave my spit
vainly, i begin to burn
biological and all
interdependent bone, i had bones
planning to manipulate organs
in a dualistic system of time and impulse
while eternity only stares
i multiplied earthquakes
intelligence was a pleasurable pursuit
because the odds cut up
and boredom has my watch
aging never living
mind running out
to such a degree, it did not only survived
it flourished

 

nihilistic poetry