…our
excellent masks, our excellent recoveries, our excellent travesties…those
love-wounds, as full pledged participants, at jaded realities: our
mousse-faces, our inner tournaments, this tennis racket: at tyrannies
negotiating, while perusing reasons, if but for sanity: this prison in souls,
while experiencing luxuries, where existential dice plague our quarters: those
executive smiles, our cringing responses, our jealous estates: as needing
richness, as longing for character, plus, our cravings for celebrity: at all
night studies, reinventing skies, at excellent mathematics: our geometry grins,
our reality upon our flesh, or so disguised no-one sensed it coming: at fields
with shovels, destined to build, but soil is overly soggy: our caves in Spain,
our dreams in Europe, our genetics linked in Africa: this daily bypass, this
interior unmentioned, while we must find something to believe in: this niche
with antiques, this recited encyclopedia, or this memory for literary
art-pieces: this song in architecture, this study by landscapes, or such feral
passion engrossing souls…. …such
silky mud, such silky feelings, where rain becomes intimate: those long hated
lovers, to have explained life, while many are skeptical: applying mallets to
ink, erasers to space, while failing to examine inventory: those
preconventional years, longing for something legible, or postconventional habits:
at guilt with pains, at initiatives in vain, at both industry and
inferiority—speeding through intimacies, racing through challenges, with little
recognition: this mirror concerning rules, this thing we see vaguely, while
many are unable to articulate moral values: at minimal, we obey, at maximum, we
understand why we must obey: but sermons aside, and life to wings, involved
deeply in epistemology: this sin concerning certitude, this harvested moon,
this skeptical plate of lasagna: our sauce with breads, our noodles with meats,
our seasoning as main ingredients: our hundred dollar lights, our filled tanks,
our revving hearts: to dissect lettuce, to renegotiate tenets, at precepts with
forks and knives: this gut war, this suffocation, those revised blueprints: at
thoughts dependent, at studies independently, while seeking comfort in an
agreeing nod: indeed, with eternity ahead, and racing closer, we examine a heap
of internal luggage…. …those
screaming walls, this talkative ceiling, so successful, so stagnated: those
buildings seeming immortal, this questionable despair, our minds running
avoiding havens: this need for stimulation, those few held friends, and
parents, if living with privileges—this inner dynamic, cleaving to speech
properties, or listening for improper phrases: this essence concerning life, our
departed grandparents, to sense certain edification: while why lingers, this rough root, to realize the why behind our behaviors: a man as womanizer, touched by failed
relations, struggling with identifying a woman’s dignity: or a promiscuous
flirt, unidentified by father, stressing to overcome another encounter: this
pain with life, acting unbeknownst to self, while longing for answers: it
becomes a riddle with time, or studied by determination, to articulate the why behind our actions: those sullen
states, while filled with answers, where remnants spent too many years in our
basins: as changing chemistry, altering thoughts, and becoming a part of our
existence…. …at memory in-succinct,
at development sort of fuzzy, at tender ages sensing myself: those confusing
roles, our deeper influences, our struggle with this spacial identification: at
walls listening, at shores pitching soul, at reality needing a firmer grip: at
thesis and guts, at mechanical reactions, realizing something is mingling: this
fence with poles, this water with mud, or this person with persons….
