It
becomes difficult, those winter wishes, those mental camping trips: to awaken
in memories, or addressing mirrors, while realizing agendas: that steady pace,
those ingested foibles, at something believed upon as a miracle. I fiddle a dream; that loud music; walking
into carnivals: to witness damage, or fevered makeup, at terrible feelings: our
vinegar candy, our inner electricity, while chasing fame, while grieving
fortune: armoires have changed, feelings have deepened, while walls have
heightened: our category behaviors, while partial to some, where others come
through performance: this world by rules, by social classification, where
ostracism is looming boldly: those cages by reason, those adjusted quirks,
while something is rising: our pitted bellies, our picturing eyes, our days
with too many images: or lost to good moments, such fair converse, where
self-consciousness abated.
…carrots
are dangling; souls are reaching; where few are capturing: this long road, that
sudden passion, at life by a second glance: those fulfilling crevices, this
inner understanding, to realize a good life doesn’t exclude us from thoughts:
those vestibules or that maze of doorways, with something nailed shut: at
serious thoughts, peering into habits, while feeling mirror-pressures: this
vast galaxy, those rapid responses, while growing into a person: our glowing
souls, our rippled souls, or that sudden rivet: to watch water speak, to have a
revelation, where reality aligns for a moment: our intuition, screaming through
our brains, to alight sorrow: to gallop wildly, to return to stillness, to
return to something unfamiliar: at candent paradoxes, our memories carrying
this life, where something latent revives our hearts: a tear for a friend,
despite, this haunted house, notwithstanding, our self-absorbed fears….
...moments
pass afar, as our toughest critics, those critical junctures: this ‘thing’ as
habit, this habit as confrontational, our screams as muffled: those years
passing, our breaths slighted, this chase for something in there: at seconds with comfort, at scars with insight, while
wrestling to maintain focus: our swaying minds, those portrait impressions, our
scattered imageries: our chairwomen, dating chairmen, or that medley of
romances: this touching person, our mirrors afire, those realizations: but life
is voyage, this sprint through existence, with much ado about experience: our motivation-
factor, our caught eyes, where alertness comes through clearly….
…a
career of criticisms, inching closer to our critics, if but sheer acceptance:
this space in hearts, this inn deep our souls, at casual glances: or threshed
at recognition, a bit moody, or agitated quickly: a bit vocal, a tear
demanding, with life winning castles: such pressure, “To be”, this sky-crafted museum, our leagues clashing in battles:
those miracle miles, our miracle huts, while surfing deep into our craniums:
that inner critic, those inner critiques, while demanding a criterion for
assessments: those singing realities, our treacherous inventory, or those
suggestions concerning our freedoms: as men chasing, as women creating, where
life is captured….
I
long for something, a particular utopia, where interaction becomes a bit more
fulfilling: but many have those friends, where love is conversation, or love in
deep intimacy: those few with charms, that dance with lights, our footprints
upon synaptic gaps: that song with icing, those dreams with support, plus, a
few insecurities: by mere design, this rubric mirror, by a friend’s empathy: to
fly with art, to chance with prose, to adore as inflated: those creative
worlds, those diamond memoirs, while living a social novella.
