we fall
into essence adored by sensations or hated for not entertaining; it becomes an
eight-ball nightmare so concerned with recognition while loving you I must be
respected as above you. this Otherness position as slugs slither and sloth
invades depression while hell has honored our sanctuary; to care for strangers
this aloof attachment while a man protects his ego; or loving at random and ransomed
by kindness in a universe so in need of something genuine; our tales about
preciousness our souls abandoned to mischievous pains or alleys and gravels as
comatose atmospheres—those records repeating this passion invaded while a soul
dares to love and enchant a foreign respective: this bipolar woman at something
a terrific feature where she feels like sacrifices and deaths and life and
sullen a miracle; such contention to misunderstand our extra-personalities
while swift to find a feeling running; our psychs and therapists our lives in
glory or such friction and detriment while everything is harmful. (I thought I saw
you this skinny person as such a spirit. I walked by rethinking my
contemplation and ignoring my greater urge; for life in sympathies and graves
are empathies and I would not feel perfect debating my inadequacies. (this
raging flame this pain in diamonds or something so old admiring your aura); as
crazed and distinguished while adoring this old misery as something so sick and
haunted by darkness); those tentacles wrapped around me and this octopus chasing
me and this seaweed blighting our garden; this sea with dogmas or this agony
with oceans while right this moment feeling something such sorrow—to ask this
planet and to request such lenience while something is terrified and ever so
determined.
I flip
into memories this time we spoke while I was so uncomfortable. it was defensiveness
pushing as tugging distance and I never understand such attraction. such colic spirituality
or the deafness between us while I survive looking harder at our daughter; this
broken exosphere those concrete abandonments at construction and failure and
dire needs; if but illumination or granny asking questions or grandpa believing
souls are but changing; this mystery, Swan Lake, this pain under surfaces or
this meaning in travesty hard to relocate; at dynamite loses as distressed and
evolving where a man is a heavy soul; but such devastation and such rebuilt cities
while gathering and feeling inadequate. our inmost planets this esoteric in
pains or so gathered by ghetto fragments—this chase in wilderness this mother
so trying as lost to passions too strong to redeem.
I speak
to you plainly this space I can’t erase as one flawed and addressed by inner
demons; this devil in me this saint in me while lost and confused but found and
delivered; such contradiction in this foreshadowed land while a man carries a
hankering for something that never knew his life; this odd feeling as never a
construct insisted where ours is so polluted by sheer massacres.
such
special ed miracles to die to unfold us where rage is a sign of needing such
healing. (I can’t come to you as believing in us while feeling such ghetto
abandonment); this city in daughters this island in sons or this excavation in
poets; so consumed by unidentified pressures or sitting in pure stillness where
sounds drift into images; this faith in redemption but dealing with something
intractable while a man might be hated for something ten years those past delays;
as abandoned and searching or feeling deep inadequacies where behaviors are
often too devastating; at needs for panaceas or flipping through skies to hit
and land and permeate another human—those rare sources as outstanding spirits
too deep in me to ignore.
