It’s
uncontrolled, however, controlled, this lethal paradox—as grounded behaviors,
morphing suddenly, those eyes that psych—where fire is majesty, this uncouth
relation, as seeking correlations—while founded in thoughts, disposed to
sensitivities, this promise to escape influences; as escaping self, this pure
objectivity, while warped through sudden breakdowns—as bleeding perception, to
nigh a brain, where intimacy is a false promise. It couldn’t be, this fated
luxury, while sensing potential danger; as falling for love, this maverick of
times, as to retreat to textbooks; or more this vixen, associated with traumas,
as warped as this affection; to die through graces, as sensing that face,
subject to pure insanity: this treasured soul, walking this pleated plank, as
seeing self in correlations; this deep infection, as priced in therapy, where
souls are one. (Forgive the misnomer; but insanity fathoms insanity; where
clear thoughts offset diagnoses); so how for assessments, where one is
thriving, while associated with a plethora of difficulties; this chase through
life; as investigating features; where said features have entered our souls. It
couldn’t be easy; this grit and value; where thoughts are rummaging psychoses;
this found land, as pure intoxication, while drifting in and out—wherewith, are
truths, this deep ability—to alter another being; through cryptic measures, as
seen for powers, while averting the luxuries of profound miseries; this deep
secret, as charged as Jesus, infusing a nation of souls: our likeminded flames;
our detrimental traumas; this cadence of resonance within; to come to caves; as
excavated dearly; while feigning this total detachment; as nearly said, we
interrogate self, through this shield called others! I’m found in it, seeking
this mystery, where said mystery is protected deeply: this furious fan; this
electric socket; this wealth of pulling out traits—to defuse lights, a man
stranded to others, while de-powered to maximum degrees: as morphing with
strengths, this preferred power, as manipulated by towers. We must perceive,
this inner transformation, as manipulated by others: if be it this legacy, as
partly human, where practices influence change; with change comes temperaments,
as such contain powers, while an altered temperament alters powers. It becomes
transparent, rummaging through psyches, tugged at by something disgruntle; that
inner delirium, that force of hearts, that fire morphing into a kingdom; as
charged transgressions, by human standards, where unsaid humans are clearly
powerful; as, wherewith, alarms, to comport to certain laws, while feeling
exhilarated. I ask a question, concerning this mortal danger—By what practices
must the in crowd abide? It becomes haphazard, aside this inner compass, where
power is said to corrupt; as more for wars, as more rejuvenation, as cryptic
this art within; to see such eyes, perfected at hiding, where unsaid thoughts
perceive a threat: this fuse of legends, as esoteric, at comforts with
weaknesses.
