I
took to silence, a method by suppression, while wiggling in spirit: to burnish
a thought, to buffer a feeling, but mainly impassive: it was dungeon city,
looking at raw behaviors, interacting with disorder: so cozy and dangerous, so alive
but sorrowing, or feeling contentious flux: roses are insignificant, compassion
is un-meditated, but empathy is desired unconsciously: I sensed embarrassment;
I told fabrications; I sung in silence: our graveyard skies, our deeper
observations, where others seem to flourish: interior music, grayer eyes, even
a stern countenance: so resistant to flux, so designed by flux, while ignoring
said flux: this spinning planet, our incapable cries, plus, those abrasive
arguments: at desired submission, such learned behavior, as it carries over
into city affairs: willing to unlearn, willing but shy, while praying mantis
lurk near shadows: those interior films, this pubic cinema, while senses are
ringing knells: but yours is even, or at least genetic, where something desires
to exist: beyond mere sex, beyond mere play-time, but desiring capable
abilities: those dreams as flying, reality courting its swan, where mother is
proud: but envious arts, shall up-rise, where battles are inevitable.
…a
plate of tacos, a bowl of salad, or fried chicken wings: loud voices, a slight
stench, and one candle: so many influxes, such changing, increasing, even soft
violent behaviors: our years with neighbors, our secret havoc, but yours is not
so intense: indeed, to believe, where members sense reality, while acting in
accordance: accordion sound, trumpets blaring, or hearts pounding: this inner
scale, this weighing by intensities, where one is too young to decipher how
mother knew: we gently laugh, looking at this super image, while concerned
lines have been crossed: that multifaceted mother, this hellish competition,
this loved jewel: if but those eyes, to experience that character, I too, would
adore with allegiance: but life is running, while souls are chasing, so
affected by childhood demonstrations: this tickling clock, this shedding
armoire, or this existential cadenza: our blurred emotions, our reeled angers,
while many adults are not playing those violins: at deep debates, longing for
normality, while fretting something is askew: this planet of winners, this
rhythm in losing, while it felt so normal: (to never possess some ‘thing’,
becomes a lack of yearning for that ‘thing’, where it feels comfortable to
maintain this status quo): it appears easy, but eyes are sensing unions, and
imagination is haunting, while schools are shifting undercurrents: those mental
valleys, this interior shack, or those emotional hallways: so stressed
concerning privilege, so privy to adult-life, where mathematics appear in private….
I
sense deep forces, a deeper frustration, a casual need: but thoughts are perfect, images must be perfect, plus, we live so much condemnation: repentance seems shallow, plus, not too concerned with heaven, while
years inculcate and become determinants: these forces screaming, plus, infinity—we
live as strangers: so more to something current, something showing allegiance,
something enlove with Princess: this fairer fight, those dramatical winds,
indeed, any upheaval is totally someone
else’s doings: spoken so casually, plus, as fact would have it, I have never done injustice a day in my
life: this comfortable image, this promoted, catered to, and enforced
perception: this legion of powers, this consecrated sincerity, while others are
a bit confused: but yours is college, deeper respects, plus, an atmosphere of
deeper thoughts: where insistence doesn’t speak absolutes, while realized
friction doesn’t mean sincerity, and something suffering mustn’t persist—in
need of honor, this chilly resistance, while your personality is molding:
(those deeper premises: if mother dislikes father, and father refuses to
submit, than daughter must dislike father): quite simple, quite allergenic,
even quite provoking: but never you mind, work towards seeing reality, and work
towards distinguishing normal vs. unsuitable.
