We Saw It as Spacial

Our thoughts are plural, this vest within, this spider as so many legs; to issue madness, as kissed with furry, this woman his mind as gone; as taken his soul, a mix of windfalls, as such exquisite that touch; to usher jasper, our burgundy eyes, a bit beyond playful; to bite through grizzle, ablaze that soul, while broken through roses that cry. I bled immortal, this vague suggestion, to arrive somewhere he reappeared: that fretted cygnet; that never he could; that turn as mother sung. It colors love—this gaze into jasmine, this pastel texture; to wave a feeling, as to feel a feeling, where feelings refuse to digest; as becoming tornadoes—those years at wars, to have offended so many; where cake was eaten, those vicious smiles, to have come to nothing: “But all was Eden, this pain at joys, to have cursed our souls.” I’m deep in passions, this inner belief, as to realize, she knows: this scar by tales; that art as cultic; that touch by charm this spirit; or more to chi, to ponder transport, this question we ignore: our powerful minds, congested with flights, while to fathom gnawing mirrors. We held a soul, to bring for lights, as strength abated loyalties; to sing abroad, this vessel of woes, a bit unbelieving; to ask for prayer, that hand of gods—those goddesses show mercy: this gravel of terrors, to trek this terrible hike, at moments to shiver with presence; as time would whisper, her name in chains, as haunting by virtue our minds. It had to be false, grounded in illusions, where pains were taken to reject notions; but more to psychs, this change in tone, as equipped that hour of warfare: to fever a faucet, as fires were feral, this space of Zoroaster: that fine print; that casual feeling; that gesture by way of familiarity; to have seen death, our mothers our fathers, this appearance our mirrors: as crashing to pillows, or kneeling in showers, to hold a spouse at confidences; or more to silence, as aiding souls, where love intrudes.