with
unfeeling feelings and detrimental harmlessness or eyes protruding if but so
comfy—as dying creatures involved in miseries while some sorrow is absolutely
necessary; our lakes threatened as not but losing where control is losing its
vice; this wrenching wretchedness this poisonous kiss or this light
insidiousness; so accustomed to violence where words are venom and souls stress
undercurrents; our souls aching by shivers our minds drastic where unreality is
so fantastic—those berry-dice or those cranberry elements so accursed it felt
good to perish; in a fabulous zone so receptive it’s alarming or such mistakes
at bars and violins at wonder and weariness; to shift with sudden patience or
to adore like winning something so delicate so firm so demented. those ghetto
motifs such splendor as aroused by services if but destined and leery attacking
something that roars back; dark intuition while ignoring a cautious arc if but
to rekey every slumming piano; those tiles in bloodshed those mirrors laughing
or this Otherness so absolutely spatial; at pure ecstasy or lavish cries so
purple so electric at such vice and crystal; peering into behaviors or wondering
if it matters as alluding to something too gray to focus; this magenta veil these
pleated sun-screams while standing near a curtain looking into God’s metaphor. I’m
losing identity while losing conviction where only a few things are an absolute,
no; spinning and lurid so majestic and a mudslide while so filthy and
dirty but holy; those base things to confound our world where one was destined
to slither and slide around.
the
sofa was un-cushioned our song was in milk so it slurred and died but it was
still breathing. I came in to see Ms. Comatose and lights appeared as listening
where questions permeated my understanding. it was burgundy carpet there was a
wooden table and the refrigerate was always vying for conversation. who are
you as a creature I see but your face is familiar?
it becomes
sounds and responses or thunder and deliberateness where something is our funny
tragedy; this giggling otherworld those palm-trees those twists and churns
those brightly debated bibles; this essence in souls brought to base instincts
where something is too vulnerable to leave in loneness; sparks and dementias so
few those spiders while tarantulas are paying cryptic attention: (it was
silence when the violator decided to visit he needed to exaggerate his
innocence); as living this was surrounded by irregular streams and substances
and loud unmistaken slants and sirens. it becomes essential to fathom those
fathoms and to discern one’s umbrella; so slight a turn where hell is so close
and bibles are yanked while something evil is taking place.
I became
so gelid until meeting eyes where dialogue permeated a callous perspective.
such gentle music such rivaling for absoluteness in a jungle-wilderness with
wilder instincts; to mesh with those cliffs to leap and see Jesus or to go so
far coming back is not on Its agenda; or losing in increments while
something new is so exciting and it seems apparent this might be something
masterful; or disappointments where something concrete fixes a feeling that is
left unsavory; those sour values this slant by anything if but to let loose of something
feeling ugly. this need for anyone this craving for anyone if but to feel so
close to completion; this dynasty in treacheries this wealth I fathom where a
man might let go to live; such chaotic valleys where something becomes
tolerable while reasoning that something is out to destroy me. this coping wall
those tractors and mountains while zephyrs speak and language becomes oblivious:
to harass a dishonest person or feel particular rage while one is
semi-anti-normality!
