to
achieve such heights; would it then subside; this inner craving, for one so
twisted, as a gift from God. i stand possessed, an inner mandala, pushing
towards fractures; to live as death, the breath of life, this biblical
dialogue. we swarm for beauty, an altered thought, compelling our futures; to
live as breakage, in challenge our dreams, to enter with such grace. it feels
elusive, this constant probing, this inward suggestion; as one for grays, as
mischief of days, where a woman prays. i feel this churn, an outward infusion,
that charm we cherish; to chart—this art for learning, as potent as a first
drink; as one awoken, that inner vest, drilled with sensations; as to cry from
grief, a bit too tipsy, to articulate words. i can’t go further, where something
is pulling, as yanking every sentence; to say for more, this deep affliction, to
burden a soul. i grieve you less, as something normal, this spiritual fire; for
more our tenets, this false to fathom, carving gravel. it couldn’t be real, this
unreal reality, as i scratch a pause—that further our tears; to climb downward,
this inner abyss, tugging at sanity. the earth has fallen; the skies are shaken;
where you stand in eloquence; where i scorn this hold; but what is feeling, but
spiritual grains, an art intuitive; to give us more, of this tacit feeling, studied
with inventory; to scratch for drilling, those inward lights, to sketch your grace;
as one to live, if but a kiss, of something running through oceans; to pick for
bottles, an infant’s words, where impact is monumental. i couldn’t see, as one so
clouded, camping at a red sign; i couldn’t find, this cryptic urge, as one with
insanity; to die your lands, a fist full of pains, stippled with such joy; but what
was life, but the furies of hell, this inner sensation; to push a castle, this edge
of souls, to drown in a passionate soul. i can’t for think, of love so rare, to
stare as one blocked from insights.
