...another futile attempt at elevation....logically or not...

without rhythm
without flow
with out love for this poem
or the next
losing ground on a personality
not schitzo
juss tired of...this
trying hard to be nice
but i continue to be a maintained
evil
growing cold with the warmth
that slowly engulfs everything
around me
making things easy
for them
getting harder on me
so i let go
hands lose grip of the pen
against my will
edge off the keyboard
for their sake
...
....
without rhythm without flow without love for this poem or the next so i let go they ungraciously tell me to ease off dont worry if they resort to pain doesnt bother me does that make it a fetish but free will doesnt make me free cus we can will as far as they let us why am i controlled by whom ill never kno nor want or so i presume