i don't know why i tend to feel on the verge of crying #fearoffuture

i don't know why i tend to feel on the verge of crying #fearoffuture
they canonized that twat teresa
as if to say to hell
with all of you who think you know so well some of us should
suffer not for the rewards
for a figment of one man's imagination
spread like a virus through the annals
of anthropological history
archived in the disheveled remains
of those previous primitive peoples we still know
so well. hear me? i doubt it none's listenin'
not to me anyhow - sad sack \ lo$
there is a truth but not one that looms
off in the nebulous ephemeral
indeed you're responsible
just as much as I
and now we can sit there and chuckle
knowingly because i believe
you feel as i feel
skin deep - deep deep in the depths of the layers
uncover soma rchtow ard just as such the
knoll the bloody knoll!

as the city burned, nude yoga

as the city burned, nude yoga
ensued. within the white walled
free-pure macro moved the Bullish
       integered weekend;
there & grilled-massaged with poverty
       itself: chocolate-life
           pain-free
    for non-phallic plans of freedom;
not the suspended
zen-yoga dude
captivating the online speculations
through nude
manifestations! as only the video can emasculate
 or eradicate iridescent fur
niture
pride. long shaved remote areas
now unshaven. glistening
moist slightly drizzled
 droplets olive oil or baby
  oil beads of mattered
  life plasticized on her forward face
and necklessed around pink slow sloping
curves; we dreamed of it all
as numbers nonsensical
waged war; he refused to hear
that anyone could mesmerize unsustainable
  movements that day: and,
and this: the city burned
[the whole time the city
burned]