through the bars you recieve your first lesson
testing its malleability as a precaution
you learn how to count to ten
then try to match these numbers
with the ungiven names
while you are concerned
with
causality.
and an onomotapeia attesting to fort(y)he footsteps
behind you…
in the second lesson
you start to pull the verbs around in time
and realize the only conjugaison appropriate is
smoke/smoke/smokes
Smoke/smoke
there are not many subjects to deal with
or objects to identify
who are
(un)conciously part(ner)ing in crime
there you’ve reached your twelfth hour
of
assigning your heart and tongue to the same instructions
to fix a broken transistor
the heat’s gone up way too much:
whatever that’s in your mouth
is far too daring to TOUCH!
your anger is then vocalized
- poorly pronunciation wise
lays the foundation of a trauma
when *idealized*
learning a language
“genre: progressive rock”
banning certainties in your brain
as you understand various subjects have already lost their confidentiality between the dusty pages of a hope-giving shade (it ain’t no tint) of milk& blood mixture colored file…
