Freedoms Abandoned/Freedoms Rendered

We’re sluggish, Love; this inner existence, those perfected powers. We’re muddy, Love; this purity of filth, that curse by gifts—as fleeing freedoms, to conjure freedoms, those vestibules of life; to know a dream, as feeling inadequate, a palm filled with seeds: that immortal dynasty, as horizons bleed, that sky to brains. We see contention, afloat, to trek a cloud, at thoughts this sullen wave; as fires dim, this cycle of Love, as decoding this flame; while arts scream, wherewith, this dream, at pains to inflect paradise: this vintage math, an outer algorithm—our equations as haywire—to die eternity, at tears eternity, to flourish eternity: that torn speculation, to envision fairies, as casting miracles—to enchant life, this turn of elves—that inner leprechaun; but more to Love—this inner wave, fleeing as flying into freedoms; to know for cadence, this inner tyranny, to discern as fire: this wealth as science; this sluggish feeling; that ruby cut from brains; to have for silence, this inner lamb, slaughtered that saw of life; to know existence, those rivers as pure, notwithstanding, muddy slides. I’m shifting feelings, a bit mawkish, those gears to hide it—at risk to perish, this impending freezer—our souls to wrestle agendas: that outer scale, as weighing eternity, by something as a second—that scurvy ceiling, as impressing sickness, those emotions by fuels. It’s less existence, as more existence, this pain we trickle; as all for love, a pack of seasons, skiing through frequencies; to chisel freedom, accustomed to freedoms, yanking at bars; this pure affliction, as realizing limits, while claiming freedoms. Its inner ontology, this ontic infliction, that ingestion of shards: those screaming particles, as piecemeal-existence, while paragons become immortal: that outer paradigm; that inner exosphere; those reasons to wrest our woes. I concern self, to feel for presence, this essence your soul; as colors to sing, where pigeons would gather, as flowers wilt by summer days: this ace of diamonds, as featured in dreams, seated at a fireplace: that melting wax; that pictured artificer; that terror of fires; to see inventions, if but for closure—such reasons we live by.