It
gets better, a bit flat, threshed by inheritance: losing reigns, a man’s scorn,
while death was sweeter: romantic ideals, casual flirtation, by an examined
life: those offshoots, those trades for normality, while loses plague, and
dreams feel aloof: but more to science, and more to logic, and more to life.
…at
avenues, splintered and split, those resistant angst-pools: terrific ploys, animal
instincts, filled and plowing venom: a gated anxiety, a perfect appearance,
while puppies are eating lies: this field of disturbances, those seconds that
feel un-normal, plus, unabated glasses: this slither of happiness, this vague,
cruel entity: or at something casual, felt for feeling, and nothing has ever
killed you: distraught, a blanket insistence, so contrary to existence: a black
booklet, a beige leaflet, listening to something infuriating: such tales told,
such disgust forming, at musical ladders: such angry passion, or aggressive
assertion, or placating while at pretend: this island of strange faces, encased
in images, at voice to brain debating authenticity….
…such
susceptibility, rewound into cave-life, a bit to vanity: a reservoir of rumors,
a rake speaking Egyptian, at something too close for magnets: a rapturous
ecstasy, a vile distinction, while rubies in eyes yet for existence: as some
are comfortable, and some are ignited, while presence forms a bond: needing our
insistence, wanting our resistance, at wrangle, concern, and illumination: a
rare island, our rare children, our rarer cries: so flippant at times, such
wrongness at times, plus, leather spins into bibles….
…but
so sweet, this alienation within, this court of rescues, this interior harvest:
those tulips, those daisy eyes, those aesthetic lips—at traces of Infinity: our
mural memories, our compassion in waves, at such a scented touch: so fairer
with isms, so awakened with time, so sure, so alert, while deeply sharing woes:
at race to pain, or misery to laughter, accustomed to whispers—those nights too
believed, and gutted dearly, at richer associations: fumbling particles,
combing carpet hairs, at eyes glossed with obsession: something dying,
something alive, at life’s paradox….
…affinities,
lurking(s), at something radical, a piece parted to winds: an inner hankering,
an absolute principle, something giving too much: as something dying, infused
with existence, at heart and mind and gut: those ornaments, those contracts,
this clove and coke and miracle: as one with breaths, so electric, so cavalier:
stressed for perfection, highly conscious, while defending with dear
existence—this place in souls, this space in spirits, as something too mystic
for fire: elements reigning, contentions sparkling, while romance is
percolating: a new dynasty, a rewound clock, where baggage levitates: a purple
elixir, a turquoise flicker, at dreams and cuffs, or scarred for perfection….
…irresistible
frustration, bodies yearning some direction, but tugged by moral puns: this
flame churning, those prose at agonies, sung for thrust into havens: to meet
some way, while to dance some way, while to lose some way: at greater comforts,
blueberry sensation, filmed for fueled and dying upon television: some type
cinema, some type classical conundrum, spiced, infused, but tired as hell:
those fleece spoiled, perfume with vinegar, while it was once so terrific: this
long range participation, this game with casualties, our first this for that:
so young a person, so much stench, while candidates played for numbers: at
deeper concerns, losing rites, too calm for majesties….
I’m
asking correctly—signed off at alpha, but tugged for re-stitching an omega: so
fused, such a socket, while reality has proven tyrannical: sincerity cries,
this fume is painted, our anguish has become fresco: where sins are discreet,
while asking for clarity, at wonders about living rules: where a man loves,
where another uses, while our souls are acceptance: those tender ways, needing
beastly, while one has died to insist upon stability: those angles in time,
while sentenced to perceptions, where wildness regulates: a taste this way, a
tug that way, pure resistance, and hatred for social contracts: at something
grander, a precious mistake, where existence rotates déjàvu.
