In responding to Gertrude Stein's "The Geographical History of America," I decided to create a Lyric essay response, influenced by the books style:
In the beyond of the notion of fear lies the greatest of centuries past we create with a burden of guilt wrought by hellish descent. There is no hope in finding how, not when there lies creations end. With fire's freeze the hellish noise and cinder crushing all hopes flight.
Not when humanity fights for the cause can they open the eye of the sword ripped in water destroy any wish for survival just doom by the end of the day its a plain of the damned. Nothing can unmake the human inner voice compelling us to do as evil calls us to when all has made the madness all the omnipresent is there something left still sane? When they continue down the barren steps of evil they can never know the burdening agony as nothing but wreckage remains there's only death to pay the twists of metal steel and blood torment the earth.
Logic wants the man to know his limits yet his voice compels a true distinction aiming for a great walled death seclusion riding valiantly through hypocritical descents to allowance. There is only a distinction that man strives for never searching past the truth of soul. Binded Blinded courted and elated thwarted never ending mortem only hell awaits.
The connection is real, but the balance is tight, and the line grows ever vaguer.
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