We went in on a dare, so of course
we’d be half-alive by the end of it.
A dare is a half-suspended heart
beat. The drum, out of place. A
falling out of line.
There is so much you can do
before someone else will want
to nip it in the bud. Ah, a cliche.
See, I am doing that to myself
even though I was cognisant
of this once.
Here’s a red herring. Here’s a departure from form, here’s a mess of confusion. A poem is a swiss army knife like that. So many blades hidden in themselves. So many parts to hurt yourself with, and no one to blame but your ownself.
Memory builds itself once you reinterpret it.
You let it grow by letting it out. To let it out,
you live through it again. In this way you
have discovered the secret to immortality.
How to live forever is to never age at all.
Here’s a red herring. Here’s a repetition which mean nothing, which is an answer key. Here is the arm of the man coming crashing down on your makeshift castle. Your half-crumples. Your scribbled phrases.
Earlier today, I watched as two drivers
fought on an expressway. The former,
a retired Indian grandma who got
into the face of a cocksure punk.
I don’t know the context, but they
were a model for all humanity.
Just conflict, suspended by occasion
the sudden impulse that boils the skin
and makes you sweat
This is a red herring
Red is a colour for anger
Anger is the instinct of men
Men will be the death of the Earth
I will be the death of the Earth
I will be the death
I will be death
I will be
Freewriting Explanation: Every day, Valen shall use 5 minutes to write completely unprompted and uninterrupted, letting the words lead the way. There is no end purpose to each piece, but rather, the pieces are allowed to develop naturally in their own way. The pieces are then uploaded without edits.