…gentle
at parts, half a mirror, half a face: this chase so gray, those skies our
image, our gravel relentless: to rebirth silence, figuring religiosity,
decoding perception: our travel hearts, our deep cravings, while living
disorder: or wrestling fire, smoldering gently, at eyes so emphatic: those
needs speaking, to attain those needs, followed by deeper needs: as never
enough, as rarely enough, while captured by gentility: to need an animal, while
frightened of animals, or so many court secrets: to talk life, to give life,
while controlling life: this death light, those fretted parrots, those runaway
cheetahs: our leopard instincts, chasing for gunning, thrust by existence: our
cavalier station, where birds are messengers, at half a face, at half a
mirror….
…or
suffering insistence, while pillaged mentally, at something hooking
persistence: this chained silence, or sensing discord, while ignoring nudges:
those half smiles, that half mirror, this half face: wondering consistently, to
realize such conception, at deep realization: this creature, so small so
precious, so capable—those dark blues, this infant curse, while raging into
forests’ audience: as saving souls, or capturing souls, for she looked so
sullen: indeed, a told saga, a dreamy bride, where introduction frightened
mother: so gentle, so vicious, so meditated: if but more flowers, if but more
money, if but our separation: a rasp to thinking, a mirror to mirrors, at
churning faces: or cruel skies, or artifice spirits, where decency is
impartial….
…so
statuesque, vying for attention, while something is given: our studded shame,
or pure wildfire, relaxed in something unpleasant: apologetic disruption, dying
matter, or inanimate breaths: feeling outfoxed, looking to dungeons, our tents
our roofs: this kernel nudging, this woman so delicate, our mud seeming like
reality: at half a face, at cloudy mirrors, or rusted arcs: such a blessing, if
but gentility, if but something at eyes: those mementoes, reminding our guts,
while pilfering through cedarchests: those small hurdles, or steep hurdles, our
legs climbing insanity: where something smiles, our broken skies, our terror movie….
I
laugh in dungeons, our lives dictated, our deepest secrets petrifying: a friend
listens, churns her guts, and utters gentility: this fortune in souls, our
tethered tongues, our serene hostilities: so dependable, so connected, while
such a liar: such oxymoron, such indecent existence, while needing
dependability: such barren ethics, while anything ensues, where trauma feels
normal: our deeper cries, our inabilities, our forced mirrors: this half face,
this chasing ghost, while it feels so normal: our strummed morals, our
thrumming ethics, where it seemed inconsequential: our falling clouds, our
swooping intelligence, at moments, a casual grin: our captive bellies, this
thing to newness, this life with oldness, those gains losing: something
listless at motion, something fragile but dynamic, or something so strong pitted
in weakness.
We
need clarity, as deciding upon temperament, where anything can be worked
through: this trenchant hell, those trenchant eyes, as consumed by honesty: but
trust is built, and trust is jeopardized, and trust is pivotal: this floating
balloon, this pitched ball, those slamming rackets: this Ping-Pong existence,
this half empty mirror, or this half empty face: reading prophecy, with pure
ambition, while listening closely: such vague cries, such spacial prediction, such
need for something to cleave closer: our bad situation, our diehard insistence,
as two lost for forgiveness: it doesn’t exist, in this knotted wilderness,
while running for closure: so unshod, where secrecy would be fine, if but those
would die in silence!
