the demons in your heart

the demons in your heart offer you love.  This is a basic tennet.  Nothing is revealed.  No one is inconvenienced.  this is the top and that is the bottom.  There are distinctions.  There are broken thoughts on a wreckless beach.  Infidelity promised gains in external merrit.  The answer however was the blossoming of a flower that only shows itself at night.  During the day we sit shrivelled in our creamy sauce.  Little by little mutation sets in, why?  How? Who?  Whither?  Whence?  Turtles and axioms break apart the upper crust, the lower being already cut off to apease the ladies who will have their tuna sandwiches at the funeral.  This is the breaking point, it is not so.  There is nothing utterly resplendant in its total lack of being.  There is something so beyond, so outside, that it crusades endlessly to open avenues in the mind that lead to live ends.  Life is the science. Living is the art.

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