Language Is Arbitrary

Free minded,

Wild-eyed mystery, abandoned,
Objectivity, discreetly,

In hashed tones,

Reverberatin',

Through my vocal tract,

Rattling, and refiling,

Through a bag of change-like sound,

Amplified, to subdue your chemicals,

'Good, he's human'

They'll say with exhausted relief,

Un-conscientiously.

Uniformity, puts a certain emphasis,

On units,

Converging selfishly,

To feed the dim glow,

Of sanity's fire.

'So, how's the weather? '.
Wednesday, January 19, 2011
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