There has to be
a starting point.
A reference.
We choose our wording
yet we can't stick to it
because every day is different.
And the letters represent
far more than their shape
suggests.
So without the singular beginning
there is no consequence
nor any continuation
or aftermath.
We start at
a
and end at
z.
In every cycle that we produce.
We breathe in
and out.
All in all.
Always.
There have been
no exceptions
even in this here absence
of order.
Everything proves irregular.
Perverse sometimes.
That is why
I opt for atypical contortions
of the will.
It is a lot closer
to a more natural form of
sanity.
Something that dares step away
from this incoherently fabricated
muck.
Yes I too am still contributing
through this tirade.
Where can the mind
ultimately break away.
Where can desires bloom into maturity
instead of staying caught in this
underdeveloped
carnal state.
Where can a more personal conclusion
ultimately get
formulated.
In the end
I dare say
a = n = y.