Born
with resistance, fleeing long roads, advertised to mirrors; such raw
characters, living out insanity, questioned by Purpose; a dangling peg, such
comfort we thought, realized in pure dissatisfaction; hearts or eyes, core gut
or brains, frontal lobes or pouches; to revive in something, to love as never
we could, so conditioned by feelings; mind-fire or passion, laughing while uneasy,
those frantic facial lines; this misunderstood horizon, this film fed fury,
while fighting for decades to move but inches; so fair in decorations, so
blessed to rummage hearts, or too convinced about dying in travesty; our
running issues, this face as a mask, while hated for something they perceive;
as never an inquiry, as pure jurors, while kangaroo courts are erupting
worldwide; this emotion in sequences, this rapture in defenses, so alive and
needing Fury.
Aborted
to ghettoes, fevered and famished, abridged in knowledge—clashing into cacophonies;
our reborn eyes, this relentless tribalism, so confessed before an audience; as
pure fire, raging in flames, so suggestive so convinced; this new entry, this
rehearsed tongue, so devoted to Pentecost; our running ruins, our filthy
debris, our dirty absolutions; as caving creatures, about caught in traps,
looking for something to defeat fatigue; this tragic realtor, this rented
space, so unsure of those inner webs; confused by clarity, contorted into lies,
searching into something this supposed life; such aching normality, so threshed
by pains, convicted about edges with existent evidence; those tragedies in
crimson, this saw at necks, while gunning through another relation; our vital
pathologies, our therapeutic undercurrents, or so anti-involvement a man fell
into consumption; those gray sunrises, those iridescent apricots, while Love
was too located.
Such
terrific risks, lives composed by authors, where nothing is new but ordering of
words; to feel disrepute, to gravel an interior mountain, while erasing
frantically; those pictures bewailing light, our order seeming too critical, as
minds drift reading texts this mystic filter; again, so secluded, or avenues to
smiles, re-angered by such distance; at fairer deaths, this depth in men, while
so close to rotten cacti; this lonely gruesome desert, those thoughts we heard,
while infused by something remarkable; our deceased absolution, this unneeded
security, born again to struggle existence; those flowering realizations, this
vest so cursed to reason, as souls battling those easy pitfalls; but
confidence is firm, so established by years, where one needs to adjust his
suit; our collars unrelated, our boots through sludge, or murky marsh mangling
conceptions; those friendly badgers, this mental gopher, while concrete is filled
with holes.
It was
years at darkness, framing circumstance, or so oblivious to design our ears
were popping; oak seemed indifferent, sycamore was uneasy, and cypress just
gazed over those hills; sap was sticky, underbrush would listen, but
undergrowth would scream; at firebrand for comforts, at long suffusing rituals,
our homes filled with both sage and Frankincense; those song chains, those
small boxes, coming from a sentient line of realities; energy dropping in, eyes
cavelike radiance, while approaching an inner division; this space in miracles,
those fires at ransom, so accursed with tragic beauty; revalued by self, such
ecliptic cries, baptized again in Hebrew; our intimate Fury, our nights
with justification, lengthened and longing for some unknowing island; at battle,
plus, remorse, feeling angelic essence, where one sat steadily and sprinkled us
repeatedly; this rivaling force, if but to hear something seldom said, if but
to remember this human security; while becoming sentience, these tiny receptacles,
imbued by tragic loses; to hear too clearly, this revived ocean, or those
whispering, all encompassing, triumphant eye-maps.
