Cryptical Lyrical

Azonal aloneness suppresses the leeching callings of the parakeet nations,

Forth comings of red white and blue flow forceful through the milieu of timelessness,

Sources of fullness cannot feel the plague’s spread,

Can I can you follow the suits of us-busters,

Do we not follow our thoughts in our writings,

Eruptions of alchemical callings do not sway our wind,

Listing in the divine helps our selves heal,

Sometimes the leading is the following,

Sometimes the following is the leading,

Confusing to follow yourself or some unknown agent within,

Different rules do not apply themselves as self governance doesn’t exist,

“Call we what to will me forth,”

Why understand when you can just feel and vent into creativity,

This isn’t funnelling but flowing directly frictionless,

Cryptical lyrical,

I feel full, and the door is so rusty,

Do not understand, hold strong and make someness accountable for its own train,

The conventions are strong within us but don’t fight them,

Or at least do not seek to fight them just weave in difference,

In what way are we limited by what we know?

Freshness falls to all men and boundaries are met and agreed, adhered to in brokerage,

The lines have to stop forming, there has to be an illimitable ending,

Or maybe I ran out of paper.