#algebra2

Poem that I made for my algebra II class called Mathematically and Musically infused Poetry perpetuating carefully constructed on-point opinions obviously about my mood. Furthermore, furiously I Insight Ideas and also precariously practice poetry in a nonprecautionary manner maniacally. Although, I am speaking truthfully to try and make me and you closer and carefully constructing my speech so I sound welcoming without woe that my magically smooth sounds are to not have a rumbling ring riding your ear escaping into the exit of the bloody bag we call our brain only on contact connecting and losing oneself to the see of blood and sparks driving it insane only opposing oneself realizing regretfully that this is taking you into the precocious pits of the membrane which melts my maniacal movement of my mouth making me stuck in the vanishing vault that is buried beneath the tissue deeper deeper and darker until it is… I am … UNSEEN … I’m sorry this title was supposed to be nice and neat short and sweet like a slice of cake but now the cake has been left out to long as the musk of mold arises and the succulent sweetness that was once so adored is gone. Adoration for the simplicity of the succulent sweet slice was lost as the complexities of this make it harder to understand … harder for me to command… I feel I’ve lost control of my creation making people gasp and say “What in tarnation” Even now as I am writing this I have lost my former state of bliss as the cake has rotted away… And all that's left… is the plate. Oh but the patterns precautionarily painted on that cracked china are so beautiful those floral patterns one could get lost in it for days… who would want a cake however sweet and succulent fresh and fantastic delectable and delicious it may be if they had a carefully constructed perfect plate even with its cracks… Oh but even the cracks are gorgeous… Why cover up such a beautiful plate with some crummy cake that was just going to dirty it anyway. Who needs a stupid dessert to fatten them up as they walk into the slaughterhouse. Only to be turned into a cake and fed again. Their blood is the frosting and their flesh is the cake. And as for the flavor only the sweetest people will do. Just don’t tell the consumers what they’re eating… They won’t like one bit. They might realize they are walking into the slaughterhouse as well. Sometimes we don’t need cake only the plate. Are we not all just trying to show the plate. So that after the cake is eaten they will see our plate? However cracked they may be. Why not show our plates and cut out the middleman. Besides, cake will just leave crumbs on the plate that mask its true beauty and can cause people to assume that your plate is flawed and act like they can see the plate when they can’t! … To not trap myself in a tangent I will talk totally truthfully now. This is a serious situation for oneself like me. So please try to take this seriously.