I hit a nerve, clearly by mistake, where shadows erupted. I fell by death’s reach, abandoned to a pit, hissing for this breakthrough. I saw a rabbit, filled with glee, but much too wise to help.
Our tides churn; our ebb is unsteady; our tears are foam.
I’m searching life, this strong current, thrust by chi: this informal spear, as motivated by power, to watch this impish star; but must I move, trekking islands—this raft and whale; to feel discomfort, as to feel such woes, where one is calm and sorrowful; this inner wake, gripped by hopes, alert to such substance. We broke a vessel, to unravel art—this daughter’s heart-piece: those caves within; this feeling shifting; that too close attraction; as to live adjusted, where nothing is normal, while innocence is painted with disdain; but let it be love, as hectic as courtship, as one sculpted by memoirs: that inner voice, printed by violence—this dialogue speaking through silence; that loud intrusion, where thoughts are left, as seeking a breakthrough by induction; as to court her cousin, this deductive spectrum, peering at dejection; to vest a source, this course of pains, while remaining human. Our bells are ringing; the church has panicked; our minds are roped in ecstasy: that deep trench, invested in waters, those tongues of baptism; as spirit-alumni, or wrecked-survivors—this portal seeping beneath the wells; as to have for oil, this charm by fright, to change by the sight of bars: this class of nuance, affected through studies, while seeking this thing called, goodness; to purpose a heartbeat, this shift through static, as to become a miracle; where a trestle stares, alone a room, awaiting perception; to find us glaring, to hear this thing, as opposed to thinking: this lot of grain, perfected in traumas, as adept to sculpting the helm.
