Reduced
to minces by graded chaos upon clocks and walls hearing brains outside our
heads; such beautiful white wine such achy web-born persistence at regathered
lights—hearing petals screaming; to need but lavender to replant such silk
where those cries were muffled by animosity; to need treasures to triumph
gracefully or to reimagine those alone seconds while scraping essence; this
filthy concrete or this dirty abstract so cut to gristle and thrown to
trash-diamonds; our curse so evidential our families so important while
trillions have died doing what’s pliable. This length in dungeons this core
misrepresented but others are filled with cozy fragrances—or mad as hell, this
usual disposition, where if life knew arms would withdraw.
We
heard ourselves in the middle of a sentence where we were shocked by our
language. We died our guts and poured our livers while others sipped and
returned to status quo.
This
lose in me while looking at nakedness to imagine those palms those grips after
she was given to me; this demented man this fool with problems or so normal
life has rejected me; another excitement or another set of pearls while whales
are dancing in our living-rooms. This man with vinegar sighs or this soul with
acidic cries or this angle so churned-out its bleeding by seams; as deaths or
miracles at something too detrimental while Anguish is taking a nap. The things
we accept in this lonely ass horizon while seated so high it’s hard to relate;
rushing to write or rushing faster to listen where no one is laughing. It has
become horrible and damn-it, it must be said, where a man knows and plays
pretend unaware of this unconscious monster.
The
rant is simmering those daughters are reminiscing where life is something to
remember. This cool breeze upon a cool night or those depressing memes looking
so suggested—to relive in thoughts of her or to realize the loses in her while
understanding that life is cemented for her.
This
mestiza corridor this jammed mistake at something too terrible to escape—our
sliced ham our bright red tomato and lettuce with cheese but a second to vomit—unnerved
senses or belated greetings while rejected from something due to thoughts;
these powerful creatures this dear creation while Love knew the sky was burgundy;
our meta-emotions our psychological-emotions at something requiring taste to
appreciate—those torn medallions this mental mandala so suffused by an aesthetic-captivity;
trying to reread my admissions or trying to keep easiness while wars appear and
we select injustice; this messenger of good tidings or this conscientious
objector while too much idealism suffocates decent souls; as a man reborn where
existential wombs open gates at this matrix re-keying his universe.
I
divested so much grief those times gut-to-pineal-gland and huddling in this
interior understanding; to lose his life and rebuild his future where many
disappeared and created a different life; such dependent love, such as you
remain perfect love, where hard days mean we tear apart from love; for many
desire perfection in order to revamp dejection, where image means more than
those reservoirs inside; as never at self-work, but cleaving to those that die
to work, where proximity to an overhaul means I’m alright.
