Frequencies & Experience

We achieve by fires, this vestibule by hexes, at woes this curse as beauty: that frustration, that curious dream, this weight by depression—as unfamiliar, that familiarity, knee-steeped in soulmates: each for lyrics, abased as visions, soaring this dying fountain—alive forever, too clever by wits, while dying to something confusing: that pyramid of souls, about which, a scream, at torments to address your castle: those relic gates, as charged for currency, at wonders to relive traumas: our relative daughters; our histories as chaotic; or more this perfect configuration—as suffocation, along this shore, our fingers rooted in moist sands—while building naves, this flaming core, at wars to feel pass languishing—at superior functions, to ignore caches, afforded this interest that passing fancy—while gripping bridges, aflame a nightmare, too advanced to stumble—where hell is furious, this philosophical, as feral a soul by communications; to prance our tears, that affectionate palm, while controlling our dreams. (I’m at needs, this archaic space, by captivity pure rejuvenation—as held hostage, this cerebral war, at cares by reasons unbeknownst; where mother tatters, our feelings as one, our mirrors spinning—myriad emotions; torpid spells; our condition as gregarious loners. I know for seasons, this afflictive pendulum, at wants for something immortal: to reckon ghosts, abused our thoughts, at clarity that second in chimes: those delirious cries, that wailing floor-bed, our failings as constructive; through fields of pressures, this inner routine, that struggle a steep clave; where love is foreign, as needed closely, while advancing through perception: this hex as life, afflux repetition, as changed that moment to return; that fair adventure, those seas at islands, those faces appearing; as died a legacy, afforded defeats, where music rang asunder those skies. I’m warring fancies, as boxed within, attempting to claim ideals—while losing fevers, accustomed to wits, where love would play hockey; or gulf his soul, while planted in rivers, at curses to become so attached: this cryptic sorrow, as purifying justice, while aloof this ancient cry). It came a vision, as sorted through dusk, while becoming a fevered memory—at wants to vanish, that fantastic mishap, while brains churned a billion lines: that torrent wave, as pure explosives, while we pondered affections: that morbid identity; those loving hugs; while at purpose to disturb currencies: that mystic channel, as more at wars, this restrictive exegesis—as hermeneutics, this flying terror-dome, at ground zero with such vision—if be it a dream, to exclaim faith, running through mental shadows—to know this person, as distant a person, clawing at reflections—that question asked, as receiving darkness, to exclaim forever—that silent love, as mentally vocal, to arrive at certain awareness—seeking certitude, alert to havoc, while never that sacrifice: this young servant, as impermanent cessation, to sip by hearts this infraction: that treasured favor, to know your arc, as losing this cycle of windmills; as cold a fever, or icy that sweats, while fueled disharmony; to witness deaths, alive by furry, at music that special person. I’d cry to give—this legacy of rules, while maneuvering haphazardly: that inner falling, as failing adventure, while boxed a fortress; to claim eternity, that furious sword, saved by mercies a vehicle.