By: Patrick Michael
Out and about like flying serpentine spines,
floating, gliding, and flapping
through the air.
They thought I was playing magic tricks and sawing volunteers in half just for show.
Turns out the magic box was never real, and my demonstration was just one white rabbit short of a prestige.
I turned them down after the interview was aced and the internship made my instructor look like a contestant in a game show.
social liberties are not to be controlled by some garden variety showboat.
the synchronization of my stream of thought is not without free will.
the fate of many is in the state of the art washing machine.
this destiny I’ve manifested is a vibrato, a harmonic symphony of decentralized mitosis.
the guardians of this cellular network won’t let the systematic asthma attack itself.
we’ve got the right antibiotics,
progressive digestive enzymes,
quarky i know.
my hands are my tools,
unarmed and disengaged from violence… my tools are not material.
i use a tangent, a biometric force of love,
I hope and hold my light,
but I develop the negative so my magic
can find my truth to be self evident.
I follow through full circle to achieve some of the strangest
feats this epoch has ever seen.
now how do i tell the story, as considerate as I’ve been,
in order to keep moving on through,
I may only finish off the details real neatly with subjective balanced,
reality sets in.