…a
slight rain this funnel and ice this spoon and syrup at something by sensual
vines; to mix ideals or to chaff ideals as one losing something in-there…. but
benefiting those doubts and adoring this creature where commonality becomes
those essentials we need. at psychic sorrows so borrowed by others to imagine
being used that way; this tangram edge, this jigsaw reality so juiced at
seconds or so sober his eyes; adoring mechanics where easy might come if but to
un-grip those clumps of grass; our paranoid minds feeling something unreal
while adorned in pure certainty; this valve with logic this vessel with reason
at raw unadulterated rage. we must confess this eerie emotion to fathom
certainty as this aloof creation; but needing this vice and dancing this vice
where certitude becomes familiarity; this thing twofold, this passion we
desire, while tiring of predictability; a bit by sickness, a bar by senses,
where bowel oozes into invisibility; so graphic a curse so preferred a blessing
while seated and feeling unmotivated; those parlor wings this parlor glint so
gathered and pieced but so under-mistaken—at tides in terrors at revelries and
laughing where Love was so sick of that damning voice; this mixture so hard to
claps at essence wanting and needing if but to realize every problem. wherefore,
Love would chuckle at a man’s insecurities so soft and siphoned begging to
please his existence; our guarantee comes with feelings as Love neatly avows
essence if but this ruin if but this mixed paradox; to cave into me to rave
above me at something too crucial to make behavior submit; so many devastated
penalties or this animal kingdom reality where some are there and laughing and
giving support.
I
require more those nets and banners and pushy contemporaries.
it
became something reading Dreamwood a partialized emotion retraced by
something afar; so unprovoked or so abated while anger ensues; this compositing
miracle, this daughter’s flute, while looking closer at something I missed: but
a reasoning creature as opposed to submitting of exact spiritual substance; our
existence in blights, our benign disagreements, so beige or unclear determined
to effect such weather; those gloomy drips as pursued melancholia while a sip
seemed appropriate. I die to feel those old cravings to need like ropes to
quicksand while caught in this particular ingredient; to compose an opus but at
that second to pose such fire awakening by Love’s pain; this underbrush existential
those caged cries this cemented wall—to invest while feeling inert or to
realize a shift and compose a symphony; as men living resistance or women
flowing into nonresistance so cured in a second yearning for a mythic creature.
so
under-actualized and sipping burgundy while rain is tugging at concrete—sinks are
watching and ceilings are taking notes and computer screens await instruction;
such mental cannibals thriving in territories or terrorized by this condition—as
windows peer closer as mirrors reject images if but this sky to tell its
truths; this emotion in treacheries this pasted fire at something too floor-like
to resist the thunder; or adoring a person’s style but disapproving of that
voyage where a selfish man might partake of crystal berries; so confused but
clear as your part has always been legit where upper echelon experience might
be gratifying; our yoga on Saturday morning our offices Monday through Friday or
our softer intoxications come Sunday breakfast; so trained, or so polite, at
terrific etiquette, pain, and education—to die in-there as realized creatures.
