Shut It.

Who edits raw candor with a straight face?
What scholarly program dictates degrees
That allow for elaboration on the intimacy of reflection?
Grammatical error can fuck itself sideways,
Impulsive confession is bold and should hold all acclaim.
It is ignorance to think that editors need exist in the world of intellect.
Ingestion can be the only examination- held
Honored in the integrity of trust without options.
But are there enough learned minds that leave the scroll on the floor where it fell
Opting for the heart and its innate sense of 'being', to temper nothing but the will to rest when weary?
Adhering to the gentle bubble of the unexplained, surface tension breaks for the beauty in that fluidity
Yet how many recognize and encourage the depth of shared perfection,
Leaving behind all manner of recognition and peripheral distraction?

None, in so far as I have sensed.
And even I, in my convoluted state, lack the sense of such statements;
For if I seek that which seems to be left uncovered,
Am I not the very banal cretin that I myself dread?

For now, I lay 'understanding' on the floor, and walk away quietly
Whispering of forgiveness with every barefooted inch that expands...