Conflations fun, conflations mean, conflation takes you where you’ve been.
It breaks the world and makes our art—it throws us down to tear apart—then builds us back a crooked way—twisted visions here to slay.
We make it all and make it one. We tease and think we’re having fun. There’s hope to see us breaking loose. There’s chance again to lose the noose.
For all to sing just what they are. For none to wear again their scars. The one’s which see us as we’re not. That teach of others as our lot.
