To Breathe.

Object of desire

the game starts with

a thing to make right

one of the few animalistic to satisfy

for some of us

we transcend the desire

it becomes the ink

ink we make

using the words of the flow in our blood

the path they follow

passing through our veins

using the symbolic itself

as the weapon against fairly known hypocrisy

what is real

is not every moment

every moment we create were once

once inscribed on the eyes of it

the symbolic

elapsing the paradoxality

it's everything I am

everything until my final silence

before I wither

become not a rose

but a thorn

how do I do

exist

what is the origins

of my orgasmic persistence

devotion to & within

dissolving the given

turning it into the supposedly

ashing it

aching

aching with congestion

never with an unpaid prize

greatest ethereal insatiablity

all that this world can give

& fuel from

murdering

murdering the subjective entity

becoming one

A singular everything

we are

as we constantly turn to our ashes

to have a longlostalization

as that is the only realm

our orgasmic

sufferential pages

are understood

that is the only dimension

my languages are spoken & known

I leave the subjectivity

to breathe

To breathe to & within

the origins I were ashed to

unspoken truths I dive fiercelinto

to speak them

in the middle of aneye wink

the silent heartbeat

we hear but never attend

unappreciating its gifted silence

undecided

liberately transforming

transforming into aggressional originated symbolisance

this is the feeling

Jouissance

I need

To Breathe.