Hush
little baby don’t say a word, mommy’s going to buy you a mockingbird…
Those
gentle nights as refused panic accursed and destined if but those cocaine
palms.
Our
passionate and distilled and devastating legacies: our distinct persons if but
romantic blame so positioned against pond mirrors.
I
know so little about those jungles or I know too much to feel untroubled.
…such silent wings while
preferring tragedy, if prepared, if gifted, but it doesn’t work that way. It
comes while looking. I was so present: I had the deepest hunch….
There
are miles to tread or diamonds to unearth.
Our
mind-caves and soil our pitchforks and shovels or those stadiums watching.
A
man by his wounds at something he needed where a cultic art supplied his
bandages.
I admire symbols they
have become mnemonic or something pleasing at points. But some are endless they
cement in brains as ferric features. Those memory gardens as walking to see
life where an image resurrects father. A man might cringe at something gutting
his facial or intestines boiling like chitlins—this arc inside conjured by an
adamant source while commandeered or re-directed. Those hull experiences or
this magnet fate where one might realize something is different. Our
impressions are altered. Our personality is balanced. But this feeling is
indifferent to evaporation. Nor has one complained: Neither is one emphatic:
Most importantly, one doesn’t blame society.
I
thought about love. I fell into love. But I have yet to unravel love. This fair
and blatant creature. She never hides. In fact, she screams and wails until her
presence is realized.
But
if souls are unpolished—if there was an impoverished example—or if love was
considered something uncouth to most while normal to some—love is then unsafe
for mis-structured.
We
have examined so little with this evidential curse where we desire in our
reasoning to elucidate substance. But the message is behavioral poverty and the
result is something unclear. While consensus is by example, many do not fit,
wherefore, existence isn’t as fulfilling. We might participate, or even find
joys, but our receptors remain clogged. It is never as it is, or as it should
be, especially, in cases of trauma. But a person can learn to function at a
high capacity. This becomes puzzling, for perceptions are different, where
early orientation is fundamental to a high functioning pleasure center.
