It’s
that feeling, right before a tear drops—without tears.
We’re
deadly alive, filled with forces to journey through
hells
and proud to kiss a forehead. Eyes blink turmoil,
where
faces twitch for turns terrified for sight; else for
vision
to pull within a mile long distance. I’m holding
on,
scared to preach nuances, for pathos frightens. I’m
sudden
aloof, a masculine force, where minutes prior she
ran
a marathon. Dig and see to hear for whispers a small
potent
voice; but for three, as opposed to one; and more
to
five, as opposed to two. Our theories—as hectic as our
thoughts,
swimming through metaphysics. Souls pillage
for
such thoughts, a wealth of firebrand, fire-souls and
firebirds.
Our we ashes, spinning for rain, cheering for a
moment
blank. I’m pulled and pulling to pile upon piles
a
diadem. I speak not as a giant ever to see every fracture
and
every triumph and scar. I’m more an owl to reappear
to
itself; thus, I sculpt not a statue inclusive of traits and
cues
with want to shower such with compassion; and
still,
I’m a sight I flee, sculpting and dreaming and threshing
a
menu of interpretations. Life is rising where an elder
rests
his soul in the palms of a daughter burdened by a
farewell.
I’m holding on to witness lovelocks a physics
of
amore where every circuit trespasses trenches to transfer
a
compass; and more it’s fury a fleeting feeling far afield
to
fuel a firestorm. I drift to return, wherefore, I return to
drift
longing for this moment. Was it fugacious; a story
outlined,
where pupils fell from margins ever to probe and
plague
the body of an opaque page? I ask—fully to a future,
to
frown through mirrors careful to scream, “I need this.”
Such
for love to hate and demand respect for waves buried
through
a curse. I hold breath to ponder a hell spewing
venom
ever to insist for candy coated almonds. It’s a knavish
activity,
filled with poison, a nightmarish aphrodisiac; for
through
ideals we tunnel for a right to construct our lives;
thus,
permit one to participate in life altering decisions;
else
more for hells, psychic bars and tear-bound dungeons.
I’m
holding on to weld for alchemy a world of transformation
where
compassion strengthens ties long held as pillars; else
to fall ever engulfed
and sorting through nebulae.
