The swan song of a dead child is the comatose length nightmare
You get frozen and we tear you apart
Wind ripples in autumn and cars scream past
All hung in noose outside from lamp posts

The souls and the sun
The vagrant idea you want some
Chemistry, you hunt
Remember the risk, their regards are too much

I believe that the risk is too great
To become a functional contributing member of society
And I choose to mourn my death until the day it comes

Woven baskets, breads and colored sweets
Married women their darling he’s
Aristotle hung in a noose from a lamp shade
Remember the risk of thinking too little

I don’t know how to illustrate the thought
Or identify the question
I just retain all the old words
And string them together
I get better

I’m not sure why, but I move away from the original thought
I become absorbed by nothing
I realize and embrace the trial, shaking
Scared of nothing

I started thinking on my walk then I got back and sat down and decided I'd post whatever I could write on the spot, so there's that so far. I don't really know if it's good or bad.

this is good

I jerked to this