It’s
more a thought, to tangle thoughts, to surface knowledge.
They
want for more, to thwart a soul, and sorely vexed. A
chant
is soft, to break for wild, to swarm a psyche. I hear for
silence,
a voice for volume, swaying dimensions. We
wrestle
for gray, to hassle for color, to diminish facts. I’m
solid
for “No,” to feel for angst, and angry vibes. It’s him
and
her, to tag for teams, to challenge Jung. I venture softly,
where
sudden for fall, a dire need. Such is flame, to proffer
fear,
a subtle vibration; and you watch, want for words, to maze
a
riddle. I’m more for turns, a flash of wealth, where all is
vibes.
They stare for need, to flush a soul, to test a heart. We
laugh,
to cringe, a splintered moment. Something crosses,
to
feel control, diving deeper. Its dawn to dusk, to flourish
more,
a touch of frustration. Anima and Animus, to harness
caves,
ever alive. I listen—to witness, partial to self; for
waves
turn bleak, ever to challenge, to sail a dream. It’s
more
a scene, even a cinema, to play out through minds. We
feign
for comfort, to push for more, a barrel of deceptions.
I
cleave to right, to condition force, living through valleys.
