3rd persona- The Creator

We all dwelt within the cave.

Depressions, impotency, tiredness... growth.
Dispersion in language   returns anima, religion, divinity.

                A birth.

I dreamt of sulking giants in urban cities;

of revolts ending in arson and chaotic upheaval;

 of modern renaissance –

 the refurnishing of grey facades and withered rivers capes.

I threw the world into idealistic fantasies:

 veneered the sky with sparkling wine, and glossed the sun with spring-wrought dew.

Flowers blossomed from mutagens - I saw lilacs and roses crisped, smouldering in the boughs of trees.

Solemnly, I riled revolutions within myself.

 My senses became ruthless bandits and fell a path before me.

Hypersensitivity has allowed me to assume a peculiar perspective,

 all-too-distant to others.

 Fornlornity consumed me and familiarity gilded the edges:

I became distantly recognizable –

 I had hoards of drunken friends, some a bit too serious. 

Nietzsche and Rimbaud are precursors to my artefact of a perspective.

 Wild dancers –never acquainted – lost in running thought-

 sensual revolutionaries:

 Commandeers of the self:

 Savants of the spirit. 

Victory song: 

On seas of scalp, algae walkways churn and surface.

The sun has merged with the moon – subsequently,

this blend cast illuminations of gold across the molten sea.

Defeat song:

mundane assignments, mundane peoples

… in the eyes of our integral institution,

 I am a no-good deviate, I reek of failure and my rambunctiousness is ruthless

... Out of boredom, I erupt extravagantly –

and my lack of idle submission is horrifying to the institutionalised

 I am a symptom of their system though.

 Mixing the exceptional with the superfluous

 Go ahead,

plague our divine food!

 We will end up poisoning you… the approaches are ridiculous: they believe us to be equal –

 I believe that to be ludicrous.

 Terror! - Where will I go without the confirming credibility of our sanctioned education system?! Ah, to heights possibly undiscovered, of course.

The self-taught individual: flickering TNT passed in relay through epochs,

eventually will re-invent the world!

The government: I will escape. (Or perhaps, I have already escaped.)

 Symptoms of escape: nervousness, craftiness, cunning.

 I breach everything I find unjust( according to my standards) –

 I transcend the rules and regulations of government.

I’d rather impale myself on some flagpole than submit.

 Ravenously, I shall repeat: I am a revolution.

Fragmented thought: 

Boughs of blackened leaves; forest floor running red - the melting sun or mounds of mutilation? Summer leaves drift and become autumnal.