…give
us oxygen, give us breath, so insulated, so deceased, so resurrected: this
Swanship, this musicality, this wand so sinful—at rebirths, floored and
whining, or steered for Florida: so many wheels, such tetras arts, fitting
manipulative pieces: trying so gravely, at tyranny and soul, abashed but
falling forward: our gut-cellular, our rut lives, or so ecstatic about temporal
realities: to instill a feeling, to dive a course, where inanity becomes
infatuation: this thin, gray egg, this recurrent theme, while suffering
absence, hopes and screams: those blatant overtures, this hideous scar, or
heinous attitude: this need for placating, this frame with tears, or footsteps
in dreams: so steep, such brine and scalpel, at sin, deliverance, and repeats:
those brown-blues, those hazel-greens, while carnivals paused for their clowns:
this national holiday, our painted pantomimes, as life becomes horrid and
despicable….
…so unexplained, at
furious frustration, so skilled and under-qualified: our late evening midnight,
our magnetic forces, if but desire to live: at love and innocence, sought but
unlearned, where passion has fled its essence: while flung for sport, or
drafted by letters, employed for majesty: beautiful rosebuds, amazing, exotic
eyes, or something arranged in mentalities: so explained, so empty, so lost with assumption: this brain-current, this spirit-machete, so sliced, so tossed,
so dreaded asunder: to adore last Wednesday, to sense next month, while purely
delusional: to drive one madness, this frequency looseness, where one aches for
unreasonable results: this gorgeous sky-cave,
this magnificent enclave, while Love adored something fleeing: our oily khakis,
our oily ante, our milk-bone palms: so aloof to winning, such pots of
probability, so cursed, so alive, so lost for rationality…!
I
come to faces, this staircase music, sudden upon identity: thereinto, those
four dimensions, those ten horns, or something wafting softly: our rabid
anxiety, this rabid war, where only one person feels ecstatic: those forfeited
wages, this forfeited future, where one is curious to see nature: this grand
reality, if this than that, if that than horrid outcomes: this living room
elephant, while agony needs participation, where one opts for a walk through:
so sensitive, so desperate, where something reed-like finds it attractive: so delicate, so sensual, so
aggressive: this young lad, in a woman’s territory, feeling Jesus: God’s Emotion,
feelings Ghost related, a spark, a fuse, a socket: so estranged, so postmodern,
or such deconstruction: a man gunning, a lion running, for hyenas are quite insane:
our savannah, our Madagascar, so enchanted by vicious cheetahs: so erased, so
removed, such a cavity: while Love writhes, so suggestive, or too much while
nerves twitch: a shot of vitamin-B, a shot of spirulina, a glass of Jesus:
resonating, filled with daydreams, avoiding direct greetings: so sexy, so
gorgeous, so down with earth: so radical, so baptized, spewing obscenities:
looking blasted, two hours of rest, so wrested, so violent, such a scratcher:
this episode, this saga, or life so unexamined: to die thrice, to relive music,
at something so irregular: our candid arcs, this thrusting bolt, so un-pegged,
so crucial, so uncovered: a robe from Life, a whisper from mid-brains, with
years invested in epiphanies: this losing war, our sensual selves, while
needing something majestic: so distracted, so semi-sober, at mid-temperature:
those budding instincts, this writing self, where Love looks extraordinary.
Why so lonely, this interior dialogue,
searching for reflection: this brain person, this active, antagonizing,
appropriate person: as it was, as opposed to ignoring lights, while wondering
about this event: those rakes, those leaves, our sky-selves: seated with more,
dying with less, so cursed for participating: this nature with oneness, this
terrorizing kiss, while lately our stars have answered: our magazine
imagination, our treacherous interior advice, while leaning into redirection:
our wafting senses, those energized respects, to possess a lighthouse: or green
pastures, or red eyes, as death was good when passionate!
