Rain,
Blows upon an aching body,
Predisposed to defeat.
Pain,
Shows the world it’s embodied
In scenes of bloodied meat.
Sane,
Though not sure of the reason,
For the hail or the sleet.
Reign,
Over my own aching body,
Dominion of my feet.
The simplest Surrealist act consists of dashing down into the street, pistol in hand, and firing blindly, as fast as you can pull the trigger, into the crowd. Andre Breton, Second Manifesto of Surrealism
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