Hive Family Mind: II

No longer a darling,

       Son... We've woken up to the news we've interpreted as truth; The product of its witness can't be confused, We've assessed the news chanted definitions of our heritage: You're antics are aligned with the dead... And now we'll evacuate all impermanent algorithms of hope out of your poetry and anything other than the pictures on the mantle that didn't originate within the apprenticed memory woven within the home wherein our lungs breathed empty air, Unoriginally we'll chant our hands to as pathetic clasps in pews fed the hypnotics of strangely dim poisons leading us to strangle and subsequently mute the tough claims out of your sonnets, Allowing us to consistently define ourselves by dismissing the realism taught by the slaughtering of love and vultures of honesty that you drove from your way of unified conformity home whispering every hope into a miracle happening before you die... Against which my artistic threat continued endlessly from the mouth until death to bleed, Accepted the shining secrets and darkness of society's pathological curse disguised as curse that prodigally reflected illegitimate light of mortality's unmentionable fixation with everlastingly reaching for the unreachable pinnacle of forever's totem unachievable on earth, a Wealth pole embraced so deeply that we interpreted every metaphoric verse and illusive chapter as the only product worthy of achievement in this life... And so we strived, Against shame and into regret!

In lieu of your participation in,
Pretending I wasn't... Me