Ending The Nerve

Poem By Leon Moon

The disease! — Wandering aimlessly,
Prophet of Waterfalls; —

The disease! — Tearing curtains,
Amputee of Blackness; —

The disease! — Abolishing shores,
Sainthood of Hysteria; —

The disease! — They have no idea!
Every burbling shell, ferociously tuned
To the disaster of surprise; —

They have no idea, no idea they have it!
Each one infected, immune to their destiny,
Glorifying a stupidity I can never be lost in; —

The disease! — No, never!
Death dramatises catalytic boredom,
Deafens the chimney, —

No, never!
Death offers nothing but reluctancy
Either because it is the notion of nothing
Embodied without it's knowledge,

The glory of a God
Who can't be trusted,
Or exactly what I expect
Neglected to the solitude of freedom,

Or all three! — No, never!
Never, the disease! — The disease! —
The disease! —

What sort of bullet creates the time to assess itself?
Will there be an end to the will of questioning?
Is that it; — ridge and ridge, person and person, the melody of merry-go-rounds…

Never; — The disease! —

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