twist in a tale

started out blank, write me. mama did. then papa. then sibling, relative, then neighbors, schoolmates, teachers, superficial whatever works. in the process, works, deeds, titles labels - caught you. on a hook, words, lyrics, drowning in many alphabets characters formed or did it happen before language came about? live life, whose life? i asked no one in particular for everyone is busy these days, nose buried in their issues, no freebies ... ... the news caster shouted out to an empty street. could have swore i saw my a familiar smile at that notion when it is hard earned, it is pigeons becoming hawks some do have it easy. wait. easy you say? and the snorts, the grunts, the flexing of muscles, or despondency, i know not - apart they seem like one smooth surface, and a wave that breaks is labeled an outcast, the "good people" refrain from touching what is a stigma, their reputation is at stake, though it is extreme to say a dog yowling for angst means literal death. it's just yowling, you know suffering, and the surfers they ride waves, not absolute cause relative is what they clutch. when the waves refuse to move forward, time to pick the best sunshine though i prickle beneath the surface. feels like heat, i cannot speak about heat for redness means damnation. what world is this? ---- already i am sliding into bones prickling at flesh. it bites, it hurts, bleeds damnation. it is quite easy to see how. no one knows about why but pretend they do. the crowd gives money, meet on schedule. then seem unfazed when the verdict is redemption. a child knows this. not an adult, maybe we regress as we get older, you know. when a twist means arm bending, or a twist means fate over throws - man's shallow reasoning i like to think they have it wrong. cause it makes no sense when the riot becomes the next truth out there while god is dead. you know? a dead god and a crowd able to spring fire, i rather have a dead god.