Orat Zeppelin XXI (fool circling)

i+ needs to stop with you asking for Love, begging the beating. Of
Blood which runs forth we are anything now than we’ve been,
Better and wanting to differ from norm, form from a flowing of
Concentric rage, unfocused power: tension in cowardly proof,
Outwardly showing – seventeen volumes and growing to thicken
The shine, speaking of providing a push to the shot, pull to exactly
Where Time was before, nigh was upon us; soon was a concept of
Heinous and deviant crime, complex arising as grief in the night,
Wet in the habit of sharpen or die, be cut or fight for the spleen
And ideal, will to come feel me. In reflex of pain we are braggers
And dealers, finders and keeps, brothers in murder alike. Bipolar
Coordinate layered and lax, shut and relaxing to circle surround,
Hover and asking (again) to be held, deft and impressive. You
Hunger for all the oppressive to go as you turn, learn from the
Seeing: the wheel as the unworthy ends, the Word is beginning.


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