…somewhat startled,
even unfastened, at this vague impasse: it dies with fevers, it trembles with
flame, untamed, radiant, and debating air….
…an overflow of cringing, a flippant disposition, at clearance to exist:
those deeper spirits, those fluffy flowers, at destiny encouraged to resist:
our measured interactions, our daughters fleeing or flying or fraught by
firebrand: those shattered walls, Love, this city of debris, or this
existential lagoon: at movie instincts, arranged to believe in characters,
where something written becomes actuality….
It becomes
protective—our defensive indifference, our ideals, our wishes, our idyllic
mansions: to believe in compassion, or to live love, at symbols suggestive of
something capturing: those interior songs, this mental angst, prattling and
pandering, so lost, looking into sky-wells: falling into space-hives, so fueled
to live, where something continues to boar into conceptions: those adder lenses,
this cobra’s anxiety, those scorpion tails: as losing music, so whelmed by
silence, beckoning impervious mercy.
I felt overwhelmed,
debating those futures, at dreams and vision, but alienated from sensation:
this cruel creature, this genetic intrusion, our baseline tormentor: but terror
was so precious, this infant swan, where something was absent: those bubbly
intensities, that dare to live existence, so casual concerning something
permanent: those short legs, those loving arms, while becoming indoctrinated:
our burning candle, those fluffy tendencies, our acting becoming its nausea: at
once, impassioned, that first time, thereafter, a swan was born: but hell was
lurking, a man to his kitchen, a small blue terminator: so exhausted, so sliced
into pieces, while unsaid luggage became a contestant.
…those alluring
indecisions, while needing Batman, but capes were a trillion dollars: to lose
something detached, where another intervenes, realizing it’s too concerned to
retreat: those life rafts, dragging souls, where loyalty is rich: our
apocalyptic, our Revelation, where granny realized something temporal: such
spacial distance, such achieving distance, so close, so involved, plus, a
stream of fluids: something pictureless, something invisible, as, nonetheless,
something compelling: so many mind-portraits, accursed riches, where something
indebted became a furious adversary….
I remember us—so inclined, so competitive,
so reversed from normal: so hard to outlive—something embedded, but years
appear fruitless: a castle upon plastic, a door made of hay, or adoration built
upon feathers: those delicate hands, those small features, at once, an
inspiration to something dying: this goodness in men, about this furious soul,
which brings existence to spirits: plainly put, a woman drives a man, where he
performs for Love, their glory runs wild in their children: notwithstanding,
something was quenched, where fire was required, while both blamed profanities:
our losing arcs, our ruptured cakes, so at mercy, where others participated:
such grueling pressure, so alive but crucial, at sad thoughts: while men vied,
at deeper complaints, but reality crashed our spaceship: as once so giddy,
those sexual tears, this cry for something supportive: those variegated
rainbows, those intense seconds, such fury in the eyes of sorrowing souls: as
architects, so desperate a keepsake, while violating what we strove for—this
infuriating loneness, or rage from closeness, while something becomes pitiful
inside: a locket by dreams, so sounded in screams, so desperate to avoid a pass
mishap: at such a beautiful figure, such wailing insanity, while our souls felt
astray: those connecting planets, if but honest composure, our souls in cellars:
outrageous intimacy, while needing elation, or this dire desire to extract
power: that furious sward, those furious intensities, so eclectic, so in that
minute, so wild a nature: our fatal fatigue, this fatal island, where most
become quite disimpassioned: such earlier days, such animals surviving, at such
rich entitlement: those trancelike seconds, those claw-like nails, or fangs
digging causing interests: these days are different, boundaries are higher, our
minds are conscious: our guts are cynical, deeper passion causes a challenge,
with so much tugging at minds: those hapless times, those hypnotic disappointments,
or this relational tempo: while something churns, re-scraping our interior
chamber, and flooding our sanctums: a bit of new music, a mystique feeling, at
deeper clarity.
