…re-pleated
with eyes, allergic to patience, spinning for glory: so close to pain, so
unraveled by rain, acidic mud, acidic honesty, and failing existence:
controlled tendencies, so close those islands, while waiting gracefully:
internal perils, plus, aggravation, seeming re-stitched: this long, vapid and
vacant dirt road: where eyes watch, or eyes whisper, or eyes are uninterested:
those carnal havens, confined by lusts, reborn, saddened, and yearning for more
lusts: against reality, where life makes little sense, according to those
parallels: flung by emotion, but so indebted, where it begins to matter so
little: hardened feelings, this firm language, where we must participate: so
flung, and traffic is moving, while some receive indemnity: fevered but shy,
allergic but desperate, failing but passing hells: so cured for winter, so
lonely for passion, so increased, so vacuumed, but passion is enthralling:
treated with patience, accursed for debauchery, if a man must die: such
absence, fueled and needy, where one is aware but flailed: purgatorial eyes,
invaded hearts, impatience and needs upon requirements: as man feels, as man
responds, where little has a current reservoir….
We
gaze into existence, such a fair creature, revamping our assessments: those
tremendous feelings, our pedantic grays, at flush and memory: so devastated, at
pearl green blues, or burgundy rhinestones: affectionate creatures, evolved
creation, while tugged by something anti-science: our human instincts, needing
viable souls, rereading our propositions: pausing for answers, contented to
exist, or flung into a persistent choice: such hectic ashes, while second to
win, feeling first to win: something secondary, if other selections are
minimum, while sacrificing everything viable: such casual debates, while
holding to a particular stance, even where said stance is deemed ridiculous: as
feeding sharks, so destroyed at seconds, while redeemed by a slight touch: so
incredible, as never an inclination, has become fettered existence.
I’m
sad a song, but redeemed a song, and feeling precarious: uncertain reality,
black haven clouds, pushed for determined: a flesh wound, so late in existence,
as forced to churn whiskers: this viable avenue, this sky-alley, at those dirt
valleys: a powdery flower, to harp upon a wish, relaxed by something
elementary: at sorrowing eyes, content with lies, if but a vapid embrace: so
mediocre to lusts, but determined to value lusts, where lusts have side
horderves: but anguish is flesh, and flesh is delight, while we must seek our
truer souls: topaz troubles, threshed heartbeats, and fueled delicacies: to
want but not need, to adore but not love, while struggling to feel beyond
sickness.
…so
shoved by insistence, to accept our lots, while pretending it’s a first choice:
our hampered rights, our permission to choose, but with or without it becomes
reality: it requires little assistance, in order to flower, in angst to
blossom: so appalled, so displeased, where fate is giggling: to need
assistance, to give up a lung, to scream and cringe but tales remain sameness:
a furious argument, this resilient mirror, where it reflects personality: as
life pauses for some, while viable and fervent for others: a little empathy, a
bag of dishonesty, plus, our futile replies: so unexpected, this splice in
souls, while wrestling with offshoots: this three pronged branch, leaning into
Eternity, where one is accepted while two are rejected: this hellish design,
torn by roots, and flooded with compassion: those few days feeling, while
newness is available, where life has become turquoise: so eager to unite, so
eager to fly, while flying disrupts reflection: at beige realities, accepting
something unfulfilling, but needing if but those harms….
