…at
intestines, so fragmented, rolodex’n adolescence: those carriage rides, this
prideful mother, so abandoned to ghetto fever: harsh language, hard liquor, and
oxymoronic millions—so cured, so raw, so filled by rage—and dying softly, filled
with indecision, that second, that moment, those incidents, our first trick:
such music, a radiant child, fraught by screams: at love with mother, seeing
mother, but a few lies: this first impression, this seasonable problem, so
rich, but background’d in mother: so uncut, such organic cocaine, at terrible,
horrendous, influential sherm leafs: so drenched, peering into insecurities,
fleeing for captured, removed for forfeited: those blue days, those orange
skies, this pink Manhattan: to place a few, in haven arms, so desperate to make
life perfect: if but deliverance, placing life in your hands, while begging for
sentences: to ask for heaven, to plead for evenness, to request your halo: this
soft radiance, this reticent soul, while screaming at intolerance: so
incumbent, such angelic features, plus, this strong, upon a sudden, those
characteristics: if but to chance, if but molded, a psych sensing something
innocent: while at admiration, while at frustration, while concerned deeply:
this city of fires, this flower upon roses, our mauve, our velvet, our violet
sunshine: so embedded, so mahogany, such revving ambition: akin to Brutus,
laughing by coveted fear, while ashamed of winning: those dark skies, this
tier-exchange, at Teresa, this interior castle, while thrust’d into this
vicious situation: such religiosity, guiding our posts, while tutelage has
become overwhelming—this musicality, this mystic journey, so public, so alone,
so enlove, so distracted—to speed through clouds, to tug a tenth of heavens, while
struggling to control earth: such Maccabeus’ frustration, such purgatorial
Maccabeus, at lakes bathing in angelic sin: those terrors, this gate, aching
with Lazarus….
I fire outwardly,
this semi-outburst, this cliff, this Goliath: this polar identity, this polar
chaos, this fragmented feature: this psych, this splice, this genetic passing:
as women select fathers, as parents select children, while happenstance
destroys union:
this Bipolar 2, this wave of depression, this frequency becoming self-deprivation:
at Bipolar 1, so at number 5, while seconds shift this pendulum: at music
rawness, at rare refrigerators, or icy a slope revved by compassion: such
terrible silence, needing absolution, or someone that lives according to secret
dialogues: those deep therapists, this slow pace, while adored for honesty:
notwithstanding, frustration, notwithstanding, personal position, so inclined
to aid it becomes its nightmare: such afflatus, such satori, while searching, nay, skipping nirvana: this mad machine, this massive mystic, at something
manipulating minds: so cursed for disobedience, so enlove with an image, so
darn tired of losing: this hand magnet, this isolated Spirit, while thrust’d
aside beds aglow and speaking syllabics: our wretched sights, this impassioned
moon, where it felt good those first six months: this tyranny with syrup, those
red beans with rice, while something fruitless mingled in sips: at black
dynasties, this rare culture, while distressed such are dying fluently: but
Love is gentle, and Love is devoted, where it felt anxious to cast a glare: our
red seas, our turquoise oceans, or a saffron aurous: so amorous, so frequent a
thought, where manic memories sense something unnatural: to perish those arms,
while held tightly, our bodies chucking up their ghosts: at strange feelings,
peering into humans, at wonders concerning this existential: our idyllic
rosaries, our set rituals, our misspoken pride: so thwarted, those silent
plans, while less this man we perceive: (just cleave to life, feel, despite,
lunacies, and die at least twice a week): those vocal pavements, our beaming
daybreaks, at horizons captured by insistence: those color wheels, this
scientific, while giving reasons for joy: our broken puzzles, this piecing by
parts, where demons are shedding tears!
