Pure Labor

gotta sort through so much shit
that attempt to trample pace
daggers and pins that get in the way of pure labor, development, deep pressing
stones and shadows, sometimes clothed in good, with holes to lather and weigh down the free mind, the great mind

for the sake of work
to continue living forward with augment
constant writing of such, is speaking to my heavy and potentially unreasonable reliance on pace? proving i was made for discretion and thought without blatant openness in heart and spirit.