maybe everything has been sensetized

repulsive
debris
the wasted knees
electric heart, a beating shock
don't be so calm, just waste and glork
mechanical light exact bird
and hyper dirt.
repression
blizzard
regression
magnetic card
in your eye
in your dry
cry
[maybe i am not a stag, not a crane, and if it's so i will not come back, maybe i have become a harvester many spirals ago. so i can't say no when these birds flow into my arms into warm so no wire no fire. just bees and debris.]
your not a person. your just harvest machine ;
ok, win
the toxic torch hasn't been
in our sin.
im not an ox
maybe fox or the flocks
what was in the box ?
rocks
im not an ox
it makes me scatter
in this tight empty matter
wanting it to be better
no vox in the ox !!
but what about this harvest
the rodent the warmest
he's sleeping he's grief
he can reap and receive
disorder,  a slug, the sand
and this serrated grin
im clean
and this is the glass end
[maybe i am not a horn, but i burn and everyone just blacken me leaving me because im a horn. but i have no buttons., no bubblels, but i scrap my nails into the waves of skin, serrated grin, doesnt mean, hex in the bones . create the clones . acid stones.... and sore. dropsied pore... door. and doomed. soon it will spoon. maybe i am not a cartoon not a cat maybe i am not bleeding red. maybe i am not dead not a rat and not a bat. not pure and not the fure . maybe ive already become a harvester. and I've proved that my roofs is blood.]