Truth
becomes foreign—this rippling vibration, this type of caprice; to know our
secrets, as so embarrassing, a teacher as a judge. I felt more for languid,
where hell shattered—and pieces fell into heaven; for us to morph, and muster
courage, enough to walk the distance. I loved her more, to love her less, this
inward affliction; to steer after souls, this wistful feeling, engaged in
mystic rites; this type of passage, as long lives war, this Pyrrhic victory. I
must explain—where victory is won—and so many perish. It’s akin to two lovers,
where the one is favored, as to court a third; where to win the third, is to
lose the two, as to find the third is far too feeble. I can’t imagine—this life
of maybes—where that found good barely makes the mark; as one clad in shame,
and sublime angst, this feeling under siege; but more to teachers, dying to
forgive, that jittery intolerance; as built in faces, to know but three, where
a generation of souls frequent; as truth is granted, this weary depiction, to
find that that's good has been distorted; but it lives as truth, despite the
infraction, where selfishness increases the venom. I ask for steepness, to
forget our face, as one laden in visions; to know for purpose, the chatter of lines,
this vest of yogic rites. I felt a thump, two minutes awake—our aces rotting in
acid; and I thought a name, with no reply, to venture into a sphere. It’s a
ghostly soul, a gothic heart—craving this vest of holiness; to love come dawn,
this inward feeling, as invoked in one’s rest. Examine the lines, as slowly as kittens,
to witness this wolf in the background; as charged and fleeing—this specter of
dreams, to embrace one’s mirror; as living to live, as opposed to dying—if they
must be one! Oh this comely art, featured as a soul, too far to court, and too
torn to please! I plead of us, this something explicable, this arctic
dalliance; and I must explain—the webs and scars, as darts of furious
projection; to dig and untale, the pits of purgatory, as to ballet a vest of
energies; where we must derail, to see for magic—this graphic adventure.
