Wolf Brain Features

Its jails by souls or tales by brains, adrift a curse fiddling this vase: our cordial greetings, our fervent welcoming, this Indonesian abandonment: those plums rotting, that beadle oblivion, our infatuations with life: that inner lemur, this mental undergrowth, such melting resilience. We’re teeming silence: We’re feuding violence: albeit, familiar with joy: this rabid furnace, our refined names, this space in arts realizing our nuances: those beige garments, that white gown, our inborn guts: as symbiotic, or wretched this feeling, about analyzed with every gesture: this sudden fervor, that different volt, our men and women searching for clearance: to hold psalms, while stifled at lungs, where mere a glance satiates love: those pigeons gathering, this bucket of popcorn, that skittish resistance: if but for permanence, while siding with Buddhists, while ancient as mystics: our green hearts, at once, becoming jasper—our sullen waves, at tears this essence, where sudden a person those feelings: our curious cubs, our playful mothers, at thoughts concerning our last ingestions: our sober grannies, at life with colors, as overarched with plaid coloring: this perfect voice, those perfect grains, our perfect homes.  I live this spectrum, while tugged this pivot, our pendulums frustrated: this inner mind, to gray-like grass, where ghosts are quite sensational: our winged cries, this resistant earth, our days to feeling secluded: those crowded thoughts, listening to London Grammar, tiptoeing through sentences: at threats this love, while feeling unprepared, this Caribbean of lone-sharks: those chandelier eyes, this feeling for perfection, this asexual mistress—our screams, sipping for wisdom, as heavy as Goliath: this mental boulder, this friend wrenching, this silence with agonies: to watch brains, such reindeer innocence, such tuatara calmness.  We cleave to feelings, or loosen our feelings, this space fraught with nothingness—aside for particles, this planetarium, our mazes supplying both freedoms and deaths: to want as losing, this shine we knew, while sullen with distraction: that bear for pinecones, that ostrich for pitted darkness, this squirrel a bit partial to cherries: at patches by breath, or inhospitable war-fires, to imagine those Pablo realities: as seized by passions, those fleeting wings, while Love attempts to reconstruct—this man to flights, our emotional deconstructions, our brains as mini-planets: our connected cosmos, to imagine this song, if but she sung our horizon: this sudden volt, our Zenist Realities, our voices idled lowly—as time was vicious, our moments with caretakers, this grandfather’s haziness.  I said by Love, this stark insistence, while content to lose our realities: this dying for passions, our onions with rice, this flame-broiled presence: those inner liars, this inner resistance, while incurring strife and struggle: that simple reply, this needing by guts, at memories feeling this subtle absence—as steep undergrowth, needing satiation, if but this mental adventure: those feelings tortured, this Love crying, our tarantula instincts: this genetic brain, our trapdoor spiders, our patience becoming our miracles—as men and women, as Erectus beings, as scholars losing something precious—as unthawed frustrations, and nectar rich angers, this field of psychological moths: that gray internet, those inner blueberries, this slant permitting such composition: as laughs a soul, unless attuned, unless partial to cubs at play: this mind fathomed barely, those fathoms barely excavated, our steep understandings peppered with sympathies.  I love with reasoning, by essence supernatural, at preternatural churns: this pendulum waxing, this buffering-taxing, this inner moose grazing: those fine threads, those rosary tentacles, this pretend-distance—as men chanting, as winded vessels, as windmills by earth’s gravity: this diamond for some, this adder for others, this mother for children—as stung with silence, to see, Forever, those raven-art museums: that delicate brow, those teddy-bear kisses, those remarkable powers: to puff cigars, envisioned in purple, at violet remembrance by tortures.