Bugolgi Apparatus

How we bounce Sometimes when  I'm falling apart momentum's  all I got after outer layers  burn off and gravity  does its part there are just  these ideas held together  with strings microscopic  beliefs that appear  not to be seen yet appear  to be enough

Blood on Canvas  threw everything I had  against a wall  few things I could catch  the rest I let fall carrying around on my back  a lot of junk few pieces I’ve got  have become inseparable  wad of papers in my pocket note from a friend  verses written on a paycheck coins not thrown in a fountain throwing everything I have  against a wall pieces shatter into crystal  salmon consents to be eaten oak tree signs the waiver carrot smiles as it’s bitten  climate agrees to more changes money luxuriates in its dirtiness  a future’s written in cursive  on a brick wall by an anarchist with a pink gel pen 

lucid while burning there's a certain knowledge only the sick are privy to only when things start to fail can they examine their insides what surprises them most is nothing is hidden there nothing unique in system function, failure, circulation, structure, or nuance they feel a renewed desire to live upon learning this