soliloquy

[Lawrence Upton]

Owning pain is cosmopolitan success, in the sense that it has been developed. Something different. Whatever. An ascendancy of harmony and passion takes poetry. Other people interpret atrocity. After reasons, art for the bodies. Endorsement of matter, a literacy of experience, worldly scooped. A reward of fact for an individual, the machinery of memory and telling, the bombings of myth. It has been expected - an international audience at their own disposal; the tireless world changed by language through all the children. Covering it up, the brain hardening to be putative issues too excited. Reduction of savvy. Boundaries in the sense network programming longing. The result baked with darkness. This sort of acknowledgement, its noises our own confusion, our destinies an enterprise, what can't be said unfolded. Sagacity of guilt. Much mundane failure is a kind _expression_, increasingly incredible extensions of resentment. No precision or mouth.