Manifesto to Myself


I am a baby blue bird, drifting to the soft sands of Rio de Janeiro, while lying dead on a dilapidated raft with all cares in the world left forgotten by my bedside.
I am a notebook stuck within myself, stuck within the archives of the vatican, stuck within the locked doors of a church whose only wish is to inform, not reform, or transform, or exile you to a dorm alone and unwary, stuck behind censorhip bars unavailable on national television but available with surplus when censorship is unnecessary, stuck behind a bagel with extra cream cheese, stuck behind Tupac, stuck behind a world waiting for some well needed help, stuck behind me.
Me in the line of the lowly. Inarticulate, cold, and Far away. Me in the line of the awake and the lucid. Vivid and dead but alive and well because death when alive is much more painful than death when dead.
And this bird on a raft to the Rio of Janeiro may be dead but alive and asleep while stuck behind himself, trapped alone seming cadaverous, but lucid on the inside.
He lays Sleeping With Sirens as he screams himself awake so I can bring him his horizon, But he's asleep.
Asleep till tomorrow, and the day after that, and the day after that, but not the day after that Because the day after that
Christ faced Lucidity. 
He face lucidity dead in the eye to save us from ourselves and save wretched kings from us to save you.
He did it for you.
Verse 12: Christ is like a Single body, which has many parts; it is still one body, even though it has different parts.
Verse 13: In the same way, all of us, whether Jews or Gentiles, whether slaves or free, have been Baptized into the one body by the same spirit and we have all been given the one spirit to drink.
Verse 14 Is yours to keep for it is mine given to you.
15: Is gone because it's already been taken.
16 is 15 and 14 will be both because this world is a taker, and i am a giver.
And 14 will follow the steps of those in front of him but not in front of me for i am just a dead bird.
On the Rio to Janeiro.


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