No compression on expression

[TraceOneInfinite Flat Earther 96']

In a no compression expression zone
Between two trenches and a mind field
In between a mine field in between
I sigh, yield, and feel nothing
I died, killed in 2020 spring
What funny about the
Extension of upended states of lonely
My loneliness has loneliness
I long for thee I long to see
I’ve been longing for so long
That I can no longer long
Unless I sing, I could sing so long
A song of melancholy
It’s beyond what could be explained
Shake my fist at the sky
It’s true that I had no spring
Shake a fist at the sky
It’s true that I had no summer
Shake a fist at the sky
It’s true that I had no lover
Shake a fist at the sky
It’s true that I’m connected to A.I.
Robotic and lost in a network
Of boulevard of broken dreams
I’m trying to find humor
In some sacred spaces in between
The humor of a loser and drug abuser
Tears of a clown,
Who believes the worlds not round
Who believes there is no virus
Who’s in love with someone
Who he hasn’t seen since
Goo Goo Dolls made a song called Iris
That was last century
How long can one be lost in memories
How long can one be lost
Before he is found
There would be an imprint on me
If I hadn’t been distracted
By 5G waves and Amazon rainforest
That divorced us from feeling alone
So wise and so aged to the ways
Of a Sage till it’s burning his own
Till all that surrounds is left to rubble
And one is left to juggle his own thoughts
To uninspired to enlighten
Too unmoved to brighten
It was more than I accepted
It was more than one could adjust
It was more than the night I could muster up
To discuss with myself
Well there’s a poverty or person
And a poverty of courage
And a fault in the empiric
And a hypocrisy in the spirit
And what I believed in
And the way I understood it
Was in my own context
Whether it was Islamic text
Or the Libertarian West
Or as intimate as a birds nest
A stork, and two turtle doves
Or the crest and the arc of
A heart that was connected
My understanding of it was
As unique and subjective
As the fingerprints on the hand
And the veins of the arm
So we align ourselves with hollow shelves
To uphold the sacred cross and scepter
Because once the messenger said it it’s gone
No matter how many pages it’s been written on
There was no moment that wasn’t new
And the lie was that you could keep it the same
By giving it the same name
It was still never the same
No matter how many times
You pressed the edges
And sewed the pieces
But it worked both ways
And from where you were bound
The ground became infertile
And the world became a disc
Became a spinning ball
And then flattened once again