Grief Surfing

Hybrid synchronicity, collapsing innards, emulsifying tears in coal tar-pigmented cereal
Sadness compounding, gotta invest in stocks, become a billionaire from this agony of bullet wounds leaking blood as syrup
Food for thought, got only raw stock, inedible for all, a self-drought sculpture standing on this grungy mound

Recursive brute force tackle, failure number unmeasurable, almost a faulty generated inherent architecture.
How long must I do this, this straining division, self-gouging at its finest, a manic compulsion at failed translation
The moving one keeps looping, in a place new or old, remains a mystery; the end time reveals if madness was wisdom or sedation in mourning.