There’s
a valley, as melancholic snow—this weary elation; to see for brains, splayed
upon canvas—this snail-like infusion; to blend his heart, as casual
occurrence—one tattered with thoughts; to see that face, as sheer a glance—this
haunting infraction; to feel this love, at so far our eyes—deep this ocean of
abeyance: if grass is beige, that superego, it stands as overworked—this feral
adventure, to alter our course, while seated with scholars; that furious
countenance, imbued with souls, at journey that guitar’s thump; as knowing forever, this wealth of cadence, at
turns to grip completion: this drumming beat, that thrumming arc, that second
to see a psych: if but disclosure, where all was real, as affected through
perception; this wake of senses, as some are grieving—this beauty by arts our
inferno: to die thrice, as adventured his soul—that woman spying from afar. I
know this valley, as shadowed with deaths, our spirits aflame that storm—where
cheetahs scurry, as lions roam, this space his heart afforests. It comes with
time, as falling behind, this ritual claiming existence: that existential; that
metaphysic; our tides to flurry in cadence. I heard our silence, while deep our
concentration, this ark becoming our lives: to sing of rapture, as sullen as
day, where sudden this darkness to fly. Its living mystery, this rich
resistance, as to trigger a response; where dungeons rattle, effused by
emotion—that instinct to defend itself: this other pleat, while deep this
distance—as close as facial concerns—to love by pains, this affectionate soul,
where neither are at arms to trust. It becomes this life, our valley-exchange,
as rapid as furious fevers; to touch this feeling, our rapturous hearts—this
fire by wits a vehicle: to flame eternal,
at kisses this life—if but this journey through ecstasies. I welted love—as
far a young lad—affected through interactions; to taste such glory, this fury
of transmitters, while aglow through city deserts; as time spends, this glen of
arcs, our spaces abused by misprints: those thoughts of souls, slanted by
feelings, where correlations are hard-won. I see this valley; those plush
acres; this rhythm connecting portals—to fly gently, through harsh terrain, our
souls inverted as humans; to hear those cries, whelmed by joys, our attraction
through spirits; as surging a name, ablaze with fusions, this passage by tares
a legacy; where nights are wilderness, this naked city, while darkness roams
our halls: those cryptic creaks; that creek of thoughts; that intricate
silence—as awaiting life, while living life, this hectic skyfall;—as arts this
furnace, alive that second, sullen at such a distance.
