…a
bit tired, a bit glossy, a bit sober: those feelings, those penalties, agaze’d
and thinking: this mirror jury, or corporate slavery, or writing but losing
ground: those few antennas, our wrinkled hearts, abused by ideals: unrelenting,
King Kong emotion, as once a seed became a handheld infant: too worried at
days, scraping gravel, swimming through sediments: years to exist, close to a
millennia, while dying we capture insistence: those gray characters, our deeper
cathedrals, where something gentle begins to ache: lovely damages, extensive
ruins, or so enlove it sickens reason: those gifts with wisdom, while
ambivalent but satiated, while adorable passion soars into space….
I
remember nausea, this desire to flee, for so many were laughing hilariously:
but nights seemed fretted, and mellow pain seeped into madness, and too much
sleep was never an option: too dazed for Love, too loyal for loyalty, or too
angry to accept kibitz: but Love was gorgeous, where Love was silent, while
Love proved a strategist: our black-dungeon sunshine, at caged freedom, where
Love agonized for close to minutes.
…it
was nice for angst, so channeled, alive for seconds: reversed at souls, curious
to live, excited to fly: at tyranny debating, at glory with honor, amazed
something beautiful found us: those shredded spirits, those unlucky phantoms,
while pausing to admire wolverines: those teal horses, those cyan birds, or
those dark brown gazelles: at top torments, or windfall anguish, to go so deep
as to embrace ourselves: but a whisper, or a softer kiss, while dreams come
back to Love….
I
think sadly; I review sadly; in public, I gather material sadly: this intake
universe, those pricking attitudes, while forced to manage: this disbelieve,
those rich textures, at glasses and piano and chandeliers: those camera eyes,
those silky images, while Love has spent life doing correctly: angrily
submissive, relying upon training, and reaping treasuries: this force in us, to
ignore life, while plowing for success: those gray trumpets, those blaring
consistencies, while flooded by paradoxes: to see Love, to imagine more faces,
while living in accordance: this difficult moonlight, those treacherous
sunrays, at palatial ocean trails.
We
adore those seas, those river’d palms, those catchy verbs, those inner towers:
as watchful creatures, living watchful lives, at too much pride to deliver
pain: those vacuums, this space dancing, our oblivious chairs: playing for
existence, so proud to panic, so enlove but unseen: at sights feeling unity, or
spots feeling invisible, while cursed for blessed with eighty percent: our
closing line, to find such grit, to distinguish between bears, as lost souls
found in an instance.
