intendi come e perche son costretti
O living soul, who with courtesy and compassion
Voyage through black air visiting us who stained
The world with blood: if heaven's king bore affection
For such as we are, suffering in this wind,
Then we would pray to Him to grant you peace
For pitying us in this, our evil end.
Now we will speak and hear as you may please
To speak and hear, while the wind, for our discourse,
Is still. My birthplace is a city that lies.
A series of series
The stacking of blocks.
One onto the other onto the other.
The stepping stones through life.
Phase one through twelve.
a continual stream begets another fucking surge
an addiction
an affliction
Step One:
chronic remorse