Looking
into us has become a battle this pleat of wires and glass and shards; such
spatial indifference mixed with admiration while confused about longevity; this
Human as Animal thing, those surprising days, where reality seemed to mesh with
interior fires; as creatures sensing genocide, or fears rooted in genetics, while
feelings become rough abrasions; to adore you for motherhood, to die in you for
a daughter, or to curse you for becoming too human; our insecurities as
helicopters or sawmills splicing souls in parts; at this cemetery, sensing
skulls, affected by things so early in development; those oceanic caves those
eyes splayed or such suffering dissipating into a new beginning; those
thorn-gardens, our allergenic forces, as neophytes with extraordinary assimilation
skills; those days with you, as learning you, so excited to see you; where life
is precious, and romance is lethal, if but to tell this need for plurality:
the
best of a person, those floating motifs, such tragedy wrapped in bliss; as
harping too much, as screaming for silence, where we could have adjusted; to
give honesty, in order to suffuse self, instead of running from pure
reflections; this trauma center, this winsome beaut, while so haunted roots are
waging wars; living out ukiyoe, a grand Japanese geisha, but so trapped by
Puritan Americans:
I leave
us to chase us wailing at ghosts and goblins; so simple this feud, for I met a
gem, where I desire pure exclusivity; to know this brain, to learn its
characteristics, or to analyze forbidden traits; to tillage our sanities, to
die our travesties, or to ingest our last performance; this stage in blue fury,
this night in reckless attraction, if but an honest man redeemed by
inadequacies:
those
elysian cries, this elysian fount, so cured by a curse so held by mirrors; this
tinge of terror those revolving lakes while our whet hearts are extinguished by
circumstance; that furious face, our ferocious daughter, or this battle cry for
a longer meaning; those ways seeping into me those reserved and analytical
antennas, or something so absurd it must be divine:
as statuesque
symbol, this raving acknowledgment, to realize nothing is beyond our
insecurities; this human torture, this fair address, while one is hesitant to
speak of something delicate; this fragile insistence those hectic syllabics or
so thrust by emotion we dare mention our essence; our rites as affectionate our
demolition by reality or eating something driving its life; infused by waves or
wondering about a monthly determinate where individualism seems so
inappropriate; our communal tragedy, so voiced when applied, or to teepee a
talisman so involved spirit ruptured; as dying creatures so evolved at pains
where our words seem so suffocated:
to
have for reason this venue in mirrors while so held back it hurts to
breathe; such exhausted and livable vexations while agony seems so apropos—those
rose-garden eyes, this soft zephyr, our crazed illumination; while Anguish is
delightful a rare exhibition where our angels come from prior drawings; as
sweet internal music relived in treacheries so close it should not have
perished; such freedom to sin such delicacy to commit but some are conditioned
by science; this fairer complex, those Grecian/Roman whispers, our heart and
mind-caves:
so
much voltage as a mis-fathomed creature where pain is so organic; our
inauguration into something that doesn’t promise while it facilitates its
purest outgrowths.
