• Vol. 04
  • Chapter 03
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Just get rid of the axis, they’re as bold as loathing

Blue, just to manage expectations.
Blue, you won't walk on so flagrant.

Blue, lest you stand in the light.
Blue persuades the queen of the night.
Blue, the patriot's saw fit for a fight.
Blue, the sky saw you nascent, in sight.

Blue, was it ever a favorite?
Believing in Blue, would it send out another?
Blue, they always said of the sea,
deeper an abyss than him, you, or she.

Blue, were you ever reasonable?
Or rather, did you endeavor to bludgeon?

Could you season their sense of entitlement?
Blue, I don't think you're the same color as my tears.
Blue, have you ever felt the fear?
Blue, they're not behaving as progressive.
Blue the art because it's not enough that we're all fed up and divested.

And Blue, you say they turned on the light.
But Blue, so much of what is there isn't worth our might.
Blue, let yourself go out of fashion.
Blue, don't paint more pictures, stop writing poems.
Don’t start over Blue, I know you,
we don't behave that way.
I know they're saying, Blue, all our shadow's don't match up.


Just get rid of the axis, they’re as bold as loathing

Listen Blue, how would you instead persuade this feature,
with candor or malaise, the options so scant and meager.

Stop ripping out the sutures.

Stop saying you're all for one.

This is not the Blue I grew to adorn.
This was not the Blue I settled, once forlorn.
You don't know what I did to come back and stand by, Blue.

Giving those reasons to march, oppose, write and right –
It's a reflex old Blue, remember fight or flight?

Blue also struggles.
And when he says, 'help me,' we've got no idea.
Wonder ever what's his day job?
Has he even got a pay job?
Wash out the bleach, Blue.
I recall you liked to teach too.
A sensei never retires,
instead just passes through,
To the other side.
To the other side.

My return, in search of
conferences taking place in the streets,
I wasn't sure if it was coming from above, or below.


Just get rid of the axis, they’re as bold as loathing

Yes, of course I longed to know,
because I cared enough to go along for astral weeks.
See them all marching,
Blue you've proved hollow, unconcerned,
a callow stream.
Were the life preservers pulled ashore too soon?
Was I deemed gone on arrival,
It can't be. Even glimpses appear right or real-
Even judgement passes, right as rain-
One day soon, Blue, the ground will give,
But these blind ablutions,

Who are we to say, 'who are they to say?'
Us and them.

Everyone hears singing Frank.
As we pull back the cobwebs from the ghetto by our minds.
Someone stopped me from going where there's a wistful eye,
a dangling chad.

I seldom worry.
Would everyone really lie?

Blinded by daylight,
what an excuse.

Staring toward the sun,
I guess they’re finally talking,
up from the skies.