disinfected a basement written sentence

His prognosis was a curable path destined on a page,
very unlikely
dissassociated stripped of pity burning with no rage,
he prayed politely
retart-retard-retard,
she said the word like a fragrance,
inventing impractical solutions for this polluted fable,
crawling out of madness living with a label,
sensible creations exploding in his brain,
all begging for the depletion of his pain,
inconceiveable matter splinter his soul against what never lived,
a perfection just tossed away c-c-caged in s-s-sin
horseshoe fairytales offered through daylight windows endowed with luck,
for the warmth of imagination this mind would fuck,
deliberately composed of external malfunction,
exposed in the perameters of manevolant disfunction,
but the ambience of the weather did so sanitize the head,
of a fickle comprehension filtered through desire,
he adored her voice,her sweet tone and the words that she said,
from fiction turn desire,dreaming about what was fed,
and deprivation is a continuous onslaught for a weary god,
desperation splicing jargon into thought,
with the realization coming forward one horrible day at a time,
his affliction never corrected,
he knew nothing but divinity, he knew nothing of a crime