Tell us a story, Alphabet.
Once upon a time my rage wandered wildly, complicating the world and its octopus of silence.
My rage had many packs of wolves and kettles of hawks.
It was a stormy night and desire seated under the text.
My rage had also many guitars and much more strings.
It was a stormy night and truth began like hunger for a face.
My rage danced over soft waves laden with that chaos you did not dream of.
Tell us a story capable of drinking the seven seas, Alphabet
It was a stormy night revolving around the Island and the Firehouse of my impossible loves. Darkness undid my evidence and fell like my first distress, deep down.
Breathing costs much far too much extremes
The end is addicted to sugar and gambling
I am stressing tomorrow my rest
the surface in quest of edges
life displaces gods less drinkable than virgin blood or symbols dying for symbols
you navigate wide temples black swan
where the map cries out between vacuum Alpha and vacuum Beta
Antarctica connects our staircases without the art of doubting
before and after spelling
Alphabet leans on me and tells nothing
but the Great War of Surprises
draining loves from bodies to streams
equations melt in the future chapter of a hurricane
and change my study of genitalia in butterflies
Reverse us a story, Alphabet
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