Clarity

First matter face up on the table are my hands, Precariously placed as illuminated clarity So as to avoid any confusion Through the duration of this. Call this tarot gambling A calling card ranting A tune sure youre familiar with it. You can usually find me standing round in the back. Looking totally lost and socially inept. Identify me as caucasian degredation, a little cold a little country wild, trying to avoid feeding a system that skinned me alive with lies and privileged promises. Weird. Commonly assessed as an asshole if I protest the crime scene. I am poly amorous and that label comes with connotations and tones Dont ask me if I go for just about Anything with a hole a pulse Youre laughably mistaken. Despite lack of recent practice If you ask me this: Who that would change for- Read As: Monogam-ishly My beliefs are unmoving We are all we have and that is enough A perfect frequency, a tune you should know. Is this familiar enough yet? I remain in constant harmony with all any allies and platonic hearts, receptive to just being that Open Meant to love with more than ten percent of our heads and hearts If the poem sounds too ambiguous Its because Im a too distant. What hits closer to home than willing to proceed into the worlds unknown without conditioning. Your questions reflect what being voiceless amongst a city of singers relays on an identity. Identifying with slap on labels, Dodging all binary Can be tricky When many would Label this toxic. A little unconditionally neurotic, like old time songs about vices. This rant is timeless. Labelled package no surpises. Put me in any box youve got. We live between these spaces. Labelled sporadically instable Packed linear lean lower Ego checked and distorted till Willpower quartered. Gauge you with their check list. Then you could say in a way something broke or I grew restless in recklessness. They have censored the set list. All we need is some sleep, some friends, all we are is enough. There are infinite lights of us refracting through every shattered portrayal of building up enough collective gusto to crash down categories as collateral Smashed their hierarchical epitaphs. Laugh and breath a little longer, Im saying we make good where good attitude goes And you progress that. No six timed two dogmatic steps To make yourself clean.