I’m not lost, particular about faucets,
particular concerning fancies: our bold endeavors, our seated silence, our
language by designs; those sighted eagles, patched with glitter, dug from
soil—that laughing nervousness, this human feeling, marketing our logos.
By mystic wells, and
cultic tales, we tap into
generators. By glamour unspoken, we
penetrate lights, at your face feeling ambivalent: such insecurity; that fading
confidence; at segments to evaporate. I
arise a phantom, with mirrored reflections, at your silence speaking glory: our
radiant seconds, those edges in time, this remote destination—as given so
little, our Miami mentalities, our struggling humility. I etched a feeling, depicted in fresco, our gods so silent by
energies—those echoing eyes, our taupe meditations, our marooned
inclinations—as freedom grieves, searching for captures, exiled to political
captivity—that inner freefall, those
buoyant wings, this feeling buffed by reality—as sighted passions, to pardon
sincerity, while distant a cry those nudging urges: this exigent muse, that
Dior model, our incipience bleeding its travesty; as pure ambivalence, while
something’s unsure, to exchange concrete for abstracts—this failure in minds,
as retreating in hysteria, tugged at brains laughing uneasily: those rabid
sensations; that sky-dream neckline; this turquoise joy raving exclusivity: at
needs to perish, if but to confirm, those rudiments straddled to perfections. It takes gusto; this resilience to commit;
where our cosmos blends with pure
keenness—as protecting inheritance, while reading through, Sirach, our natures
tugged our lungs roaring: such candent waves, as lambent necessities, while
pure affection becomes intimacy: this giving of souls, our molasses-love, our
windows open—prayers pouring forth; albeit, our minds, traveling through
dominions, where adolescence influences behavior. [We see it fretting, this hanky essence, as
rabid confusion]. I know a dream, as
realizing ambition, while retreating casually.
I know a dream, filled with reality, while too real to sustain. I heard about ifs; this needs to work harder, where reality fails to sustain
longevity: this reckless mind, as requiring enchantments, while damaged fairly
by wars: this leggy soul; that treadmill struggle; that soul nervous
constructing perfections: to relax with time, while infused by pressures, a
sore indebted to those heavy palms.
