(You
love with questions; racing into self, when the tone shifts); and
in
my mind, Hennessey repeats itself; a
shot for strength. It comes
from
Shakur, a renowned lyricist, the bones of a panther; but as I
wrote
it, it disappeared, somewhere another level. (You have
secrets.
They bring you fear; thus, a loud voice is cause for authorities).
Such
a life; to die a partial grave, netted in sadness. So we tiptoe, as
not
to hurt feelings, as so to see our children. (It’s a game: “Be forever
nice”);
but how for one emotion? It just
echoed; a facial expression,
to
conjure up rain. (To see you there, where access was given, and
loving
me grayly: I perished that moment).
Such a dynamic; living a
bit
abject, and reading silence; especially faces; where vinegar trickled
into
indiscretion. I try to laugh, at tragic comedy; to know we live this
way,
as considerate as hyenas; but not for death; for some are humanists,
and
thus, they wouldn’t do it; where others approach hell, enthralled
for
but moments; for hell betrays! (I see
more the dilemma; to never
know
for ethics and ought and morals and wrong: It’s mainly—Do as
we
please; and thus, it’s hard to chastise; where by law, everyone is
held
accountable).
