Rehab Intuition

I deleted letters, as found a scoundrel, laughing at delirious mirrors: this step at fury, this cloud as berries, this sipping for dying our sober-liquor.  I felt exhaustion, thinking blue-grass, fiddling with twigs: this mental image, this perfect picture, while scents diminish fruit-fares.  I ache for passion, this infant dancing, this psych decoding psychoses: this man brewing, this butterfly chiseling, this atmosphere, horrific—at cadent laws, pursuing dreams, to sky with elves: that attic cry, this radical wilderness, this space in Egypt: our straw bricks, our feral Pharisees, our disbelieving Sadducees.  I’d live closeness, to die separation, a bit bored but breathing: this agile rasp, our frenzy to detriments, this cagey but sexual cadence: as close to life, while far, therefrom, our harmonies exposed to scissors: if could to laugh, as touched our blood, to bleed while justified: this frequent voice, this rabid attraction, at thoughts to this passive depreciation; where father boggles, at love to fantasy, while mother gruels through realities: this charming death, this brilliant deterrent, our monsters fretting as cameras expose hidden features: this life cringing, this woman believing, those strangers a tadpole curious.  I vex at tunnels, at girth this wand, at forbidden freedoms—as creeping silence, or void its arrival, a second so busy—this angst grinding, this fever demoted, our psychotic therapists—if torn at guts, our lungs depleted, this wroth to heights replenished: as strangers die, invested in make-believe, to find with truth this sustaining alphabet: our waving lights, this tulip scar, our chilled Coronas.  (It came with hell, this fantastic Queen, those juvenescent limbs: our days to rooms, our hospitals’ rejection, this tender soul so distant—at love with violence, to restrict color, our pale-green spinach: as members cleft’d, or romance casino’d, this flippant exhaustion driving wings—where mother is gorgeous, our arms to lights, this welkin swan—but raves to souls, this delicate mystic, to cut as demanding tyrannies: our drunk escapades, our two week episodes, our trips to Neptune: this Biorè wiggling, this Neutrogena hysterical, this psych as balanced as undergirded earthquakes—to arise at dawn, about two hours late, seeking for finding that current).  I think to adornments, this pendant legacy, this furious cygnet—that wailing anger, those torrent secrets, this vest as speaking morality: our European dreams, as paraded in Blackness, this two-toned, shapeless, rehearsal—as living glass, or crafted wood, while metals become melted chaos: our hearts swimming, this need for agonies, this force giving illusion—to love as abandoned, gripping for dear life, a man’s creativities: this moon reluctant, this sun grieving, those stars bearing witness; where an ankh screams, while pyramids retract, while hieroglyphs depict this perfect goddess: our Danish memories, this place as before, this soul bruised for sprinting—as casual portraits, this Getty fiasco, our nights to conversing with Rembrandt.  I love a dream, as perfected distance, to hate a portion this mirror: our deep confliction, this trove of death-prints, this yoke as demanding its contention—to fly with life, at fears to succeed, where Love dwells suspended in admirations: our mystique islands, to see those faces, our therapists squinting for currencies: this frequent stature, as picturesque screams, afforded this advice as pulling in reverse: that circuit demented, this intimacy myopic, those sounds frowning at eternity—as broken leaves, or veins rejecting heroine, this hero in souls depleted from exhaustion—as craving men, or languishing women, to remote this inner control—while mother dies, this son as father, this whirlwind as humble—to cut with daisies, as a furious coffin, to ask for DVD’s.  (Let us mandolin, Love, affected for drenched, revising our guardian alms—while stripped for malice, a tear thunderstruck, knitting legible norms: this face to pillows, this stormy weather, our regional fireworks—where masquerades perform, while thoughts discern, such tender arithmetic!).