Nary a Traveler of Youth, the Wanderer’s Impeller Makes a Way Forth

Many find a way to stay what say you

What say you?

That I may do to be so much more than before or to say

That

I cannot believe you did what you did when you were younger

When I was younger, it was still in the blight of our eyes, our years

So to steer clear of something worth knowing is to self-suppress and know that once, I knew, and once, the knowledge was thrilling power

How quaint, the despondence of the youth.

 

Imitation games don’t stall me, I’m just a young gun running from the law, at haste at Stalin’s bequest

to name a few

victims

. but without knowing who goes which way or why the namesake(s) keep us occupied might frighten those who do not know the shifting of the wood (on or beneath) the desk

. is made of

humour

global c-

at(@)~astr’ophe

 

impellers make a name for themselves

due ritual won’t dance anymore

slay survivor, stay rich .  .   .

 

namesake                namesake

no quiescent disquietude oft resplendent meandering through havoc

or

somewhere inside

 

the stairs creak with violence

I’m not wary!

no one is scared

 

insipid attitudes molest the ears when the buffet opens

nay, a traveler

 

some say

 

wandering is truth

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