A widening hole of disapproval;
as the deepest recesses of a tortured
soul continue loving unconditionally.
Constant evaluation closes the
window to any form of exegetic
self improvement.

Searching for justice, true
and total emancipation, yet society
pulls the strings of possible
fortune, and its definition.
Both physical, and emotional tension
find their ways to tired eyes,
sunken cheeks, and worn faces.

Taking part in our progression
forward is a denial of acceptance,
which breeds utter complacence, but
monetary value has reared its
disastrous head; destroying value
systems, even those of the greatest
dissenters.

An upheaval of conscience, while in
constant strain a shadow of perceived
ideological incentives, now becomes
corrosive. Rotting away is the very
sanity many define as stability, in
pure reference to their deference of
virtual vanity.

The shackles of individual vision
bind them to the criticisms of American
ethics. When true freedom is all they’re
reaching for, but the entangled lot
of them clang, and clink together
metaphorical sparks illuminate the
darkness, revealing the harshest
realities. We’re all bounded together,
through idea and its function.
We’re all to be brought down together.
Weighed down by our concept of
individualism, not cooperation.
A plight made easier to fathom,
whilst one is fright filled by the
throes of night.

Questions abound, but answers
are destined to elude him.
Consistent by nature, but erratic
in action; his wants out weigh
his resolve. He yearns to taste the
savory sentiments of reform, so
he may relieve his resentments.
Only one conclusion may save him
now, seclusion.

The illusion of a movement
is emblazoned upon a fantasy,
regenerating a veneration for
the arbitrary truce of accepting their
tightening noose, their own defined
escape plan. A stand that will bring
about great consequence, but to
quench the thirst of definition
means more to them now, than the
frail bodies they struggle to keep
erect.

An echelon, whose steps are
steep stands before all of us. Ascending
deep into the abyss of our conjured
conscience, where stars of faulty
faith illuminate all our weary faces,
creased so our tears know all too well
their path, and our heritage can
celebrate our future. As leadership
surrounds all of them, the fear becomes
residual motivation.
They shed their skins, brandishing
new soft supple flesh, all too vulnerable
to attack, but it’s not the physical
their designed to protect, it’s the silent
internal, composed of all our dreams
which compel us to strike back
swearing of their traced course,
swearing off their forcible concepts
of importance, and swearing off
their control of our psyche’s.

Scars mark the removal of
dogmatic apparatuses, a chiseled
body rises amidst the carnage,
allowed now in full breadth to
feel the immense pressure of our
journey. A flurry of anti- anything
rhetoric infiltrates ears, but filtered
properly they can be translated as
romantic overtures built of doubt,
for fighting in truth one’s mouth must
remain closed, so the action may
become a solid platform, from which
his temple may grow.