Train of Thoughts

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To the end of his tongue

 there is no illumination.
We need to fortify self from denials and whore-mongers.
 
Impotent existence is from deformed thoughts
that keeps you longing and
wandering from tavern to mother trees
that now are decaying with bitter sap.
 
You are sun in tea leaf readings
with a straitjacket confidence.
 
Itched on by eschatological rants
keeps you winged and headless
that ruptures an enclosed sky
as wings scrap across the ceiling.
 
At the end of his tongue
leaves one ready to leap beyond
the zodiac sky.

These poems are about the dance of madness in flesh; shaking the foundations of Foreign Installations whose mind wear, the weeping of the slave with invisible shackles and the laments of the fragmented self.

The Monstrous Soul Literary Series will feature poetry, fiction, plays dealing with the dark night of the Soul.

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