Poor hypocrite

Now let it be known how
Lest get the wrong number
How he suffered total degrading

As they thought externals fading
No matter
Trading

One
For another,

As if he was not homeless in one park one day of days
Writhing on a well landscaped manicured lawn

And been in prison twice no kidding
And hated for political slant , and now,
What after soul search where not only new left but
Aesthetics ridding

That not disagree as with contra Nietzche,
But reversal back before a syntheses became
By approximations, which more sensible?

that suffering is incomparable literally,
That viewpoints turned by degrees,
That ostentation is a cover, that ,
Numbness and Nausea are bedfellows
That transformation be a vermin,crawling toward a purpose
Wished for,

That referentiality an art form as in a Dali dream,
A Genet nightmare,
The form comes and goes as final dream whereas community dwells,

Where punishment is a need to feel
Something,

Where stigma is contagious and personality dissipated
Misinterpreted and politicized,

At that hour,that dark night
When the soul flies like a wounded bird

When the warning , Nietzche suffering with an unreclaimed necessity, atonal dissonance from
Cossima,

The feminine voice, repressed, libidinally, .

Necessity is the mother,
And the catch is 22 , life dependent,
Must recognize , someone in earnest,
A beg of insolence, but,
Not to offend,
Never
Admitting this profuse
Requisite,

When in his last job of driving
They said do not ever quit, let the fire u, cause, if anything , make a stand, showing your mettle.

How do You do? Fine, he said. Fine. Hotel California

In reverse.

ANY ONE OUT THERE? BEAM ME UP. Scotty.

This return to the land of the Magyarsz will be the most difficult ever, especially with clear
Revelation, and the far away flung thought of
Someone listening.
Gives semblance of coherence from the modern
Clackety clack …virtual space, after all, need not
Beget a guilty conscience of diminishing forests of real paper. It is as of yet free for the taking, flowing
Like the river.

It’s some one other, speaking I swear, as in a lost remembered somewhere, in time
Used him , as the medium.

The catch is infallible, and until stopped, will record the nuances
Of this urgent and senselessly lonely,
Of summers

I read this story, it’s very easy to understand me. I want to learn more about this.