Parts of You

I whisper to the night and I find what is right. There is a blight instead of delight. Dreams filled with the incestuous workings of a demonic fold. I try to fight morning, noon, and night and it is not enough. He rapes me in my dreams, and then sends letter of confirmation to the complicit. Over and over they are rover and I find myself looking away to function daily. Today I possibly sewed a piece. Maybe a new being can see a breakdown of me and my train track telepathy. We may disagree on everything except the only true religion: Quantum level physics. Being on the Zephyr right now does not mean that I am actually Republican. It means that they lie to me less and, in a way, conform more. Once on an assigned undercover project, they will never heed, I believe. My autobot is Rep. Paul Ryan. We will use him to receive, and then throw all of his wizardry physics theories gleened around me, away. I must stay until I go. This week I do both.