Environmental Disposition

She knew love, as cascading dysfunction, that enticed by hell: the ups shattering downwardly, the high tides breaking skies, and the tussle of heated debauchery. I loved this paragon, a breast that nursed us, growing this inward aversion; for what was life, a vestibule of broken hearts, and dreams fractured by poverty! We lived spinning through space, as accustomed to chaos, drifting through empty bottles; as acclaimed by death, studied by tensions, struggling through post-traumatic syndrome. The earth is distant, as intimate as nature, this grand paradox; as to challenge souls, knitted in pandemonium, wrestling through ghetto storms; to arrange this mind, the sickest orientation, married to fleeting fancies. We relish in dreams, to be for “normal”, unaware of their turmoil: the darkened heart-states, the sheer distrust, and teary eyed longings.

We glean from muddy lakes, distracted highly, to give birth to clarity; this world of contradiction, flowing in chaos, attracted to bee stings; as to grow weary, of something familiar, to search and feel awkward; for love is peculiar, a pair of mirrors, staring through images. The tides are roaring, the fire is flaming, and we feel like orphans; for we live yearning, for something “normal”, to alter our entire lives; and we die screaming, to break our reflection, as feeling inferior. I watched it, storming through boxes, and fleeing caves; to feel it creeping, a snake in a spine, to devastate our beating thoughts.