This
office of chambers, affected by sunshine, treading sky-walks—as dreams ignite,
where engines rev—a candle for a ghost; as more those bars, that invasive
darkness, those visions by arts a fire. We
stipple dungeons, this series of nightmares, stitched at anxieties: that warm
terror; those horrible chills; those interior suggestions; to feel such
absence, while running towards self—our arms flailing through winds; this chime
of songs, that cryptic gadfly, at souls this crevice of staircases; to climb
gently, palming for cracks, while tugging at splinters: that abstract
adventure, as concrete ambiguities, while tentacles reach upon sky-graphs: that
soft pressure; that soft music; our basins maniacal laughter. This morbid
connection; as screaming fire; as to abandon an old feeling; while streaming
life, this shadow of whirlwinds, our souls flicking through sadness; as dancing
turmoil, or waltzing sky-joys, by chance an ant to a sea-lion: this dark tension,
that disposition, while shrouded in passions; to tillage a creek, as to
envelope leviathan, where laughter betrays downcast; but this is life, our
shades of grays, smiling while souls are stripped to particles: this
magnificent joy, this cadence of gunfire—our pains paraded in silence; as more
isolation, as catty good times, while never to have met—this water of termites,
through bones as symbols, fingers entrenched in soil-bacteria; this casual
daylight, that murky coffee, this trail of, “I need to do better”; as more a
mission, seasoned in disgusts, while insulated in resilience; this angst in
men, as hampered by existence—that altered personality; while souls would
cherish, a genuine embrace, as committed to something special; to find that
spark, as channeled through grins, this place in arts to flourish; to mitigate
anguish, while sewn into analyses, peering at existential havoc; this chaotic
world, as chaotic tears, floored into traffic.
