…but
terrific light, candescent charms, an electric crescendo—such venom, so
battled, while harnessed: to choose attraction, or pulled by deaths, erased
from perception: as myths tore promises, aching for despondent, so alert those
particles: flippant with flipper, fragmented but undestroyed, painted in violet
furies: flickering blue lights, at yellow-beige, or velvet fiery red: by
threshold, by African Pride, by dynasty, penchants, or curses: too beautiful,
so inclined to die, an intravenous agony: at fairer problems, damn near unwet,
so accursed, so aflame, so radical at rebirths: reminded lately, about
something funny, while pain strikes an opus—those bluer systems, those Ferrari
Jets, as sunk low, abandoned highness, ass kissing and feeling existence: but
sore to thought, our rehab nation, or something too incredible with quirks:
fleeing for failing, restructured and reborn, at music, life, and summer….
I’m
not elated; I’m not depressed; and I’m reasoning with Honesty: ate something
heavy, and days have been muddy, and today we drink at noon: body aches, sore
muscles, working out, going lazy, writing and feeling distrust: attempting
normality, this fun ride game, with Rehab on repeat: so saturated, so
blind, at deliberate ignorance: for life isn’t purple, and pretend isn’t
normal, while we get angry: those things they do, or something unaddressed,
plus, this DMV trip: something beautiful, to glance at decisions, while one
rests too late into evenings: thirty days at it, to sudden upon a feeling,
while Love was displeased: this unfair battle, those rites with courage, at
guts for wars: so devoured, so chewed and spat afar, plus, noon is here!
…something
smooth, something strong, seated in this phantom dungeon: summonsing tigers,
florid a nightmare, finding enjoyment: looking at equipment, trashing a clove,
and spraying Invisibility: a light scent, something morning misty, rereading
something intricate: mingling minds, pondering prostitutes, while inclined to
maintain distance: so fair and low, so raw and bothered, so inclined to go
wacky: leaving self, a churning heart, at a particular thought: too removed to
motion, too calm to elevate, or too revved to disincline: pausing and sighing,
huffing for puffing, while Love is listening: so imperfect, at such a phantom,
while alert for obnoxious with barf: this Bart adventure, this Lisa brain,
while Maggie never grows: something futuristic, something alchemic, at disease,
child and close associate: such a grandparent, so passive, while people feel
loyalty: our ab tortures, our gut feelings, while everything seems ignored….
I must
check in; indeed, I’m crazy; plus, I don’t want to stop: this slight secret, this
month in layaway, while rented by serious contemplation: a daughter watching, a
mother passing judgement, a few fathers pointing wands: an aloof character, a
fair winner, plus, constant agitation: to dance this way, to rekindle a mother-feeling,
while many had something normal: so blessed, so allergenic, while reality seems
inappropriate: at deeper thoughts: if taught that way, it appears normal that
way: those kids in Africa, those kids in Haiti, too imagine Normality: such
murder and mayhem, such memory and movement, while music dances to mischief: a
small proof, while speaking about yams, or insisting upon schooling: a witness
to freebasing, watching a man turned-out, as mother gave him his first
wilderness: something so normal, this Ghetto Brentwood, or better, this Beverly
Glen museum: our bolder stereotypes, our impenetrable fortresses, our eyes
pointing, our souls curling, our majesties interrupted: at mothballs, at milk
with cookies, so delectable, or fretted detestable, while perfect those few eyes:
those feelings, so alive, to have best for wrapped in skinless spirit-dreams!
