to be deleted.

There's no overestimating the ironies  of conflict in artistic expression --  songs, films, poems, etc. An anthology  of weakness dictated from the harassed  to their harassers. The terse, but accommodating  suggestions of those made wise by frustration  to their overfed, understimulated peers.  Let their nervous energy disintegrate  like numbers decoupled from their equations.  Put your best foot forward like a folk song  into the anonymous  balance  like a spider's breath  in the vacuous universe.  **** 

They were afforded an impunity greater than that of the first  liar who pretended to read. Inexplicably  lazy and unconditionally dissatisfied  in their failure to elevate to nobility,  they looked up with S-bent necks  to the quick eyes, practiced  faces regurgitating Eastern Philosophy  in a charade to bring woe, interfere  and defile.  They moved slowly to camouflage  personal batteries of angst,  spoke with a commitment  to patience  as though the self-contradictory nonsense they  offered might couple with some  high, strange branch of human accomplishment.  Hysteria burned into the days, their bones  while insects and creatures of the forest,  unseen figures rummaged humbly and  diligently among each other for momentary peace.  Then, redraw the limits of that silent horizon,  await the horn's bellow,  the rising bridge.  ****