“They All Seemed Obtuse, When Circle Took The Square” 

Admittedly my native language is English, which is why I can’t understand why I cannot understand how to communicate with such bitter of tongue. In the droll of sick and drugs I punched my nose into Ginsberg hoping to find a testimonial of theories which I can maybe somehow call prayers. I pushed my knees under the shallow waters of the poorly caulked tub as I tried to cling to the ideas of an embryonic existence. I watched the humid walls tear up as they tried to find the words of loss. How do I escape seasons when there is a passing shadow behind my neighboring curtains. Am I a martyr, a mason or a magician? Carving characteristics out of concrete jungles… These thoughts carry me throughout the daily chores. Money, greed, love, when can I define the latter? 
-Joshua Tool 03/07/16

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