I
have embarked upon a journey made relevant in hindsight or perfected by visceral
feelings. I have desired to teach you if but to upbuild you while negative
stimulation prevents this insistence. We’re stems of mystic vice stirred by
mystic energy our guts a bit so mystic: something easy I presume, where a soul is
un-present, and his defense is unrepresented; this pillar of frozen emotions
this hurt as vehicle or this pleasant carousal caused by reaping modicum satisfaction.
So, we live at an impasse, we deny too many forks, while focused on something
irregular; where we know for mainstream while excusing our deviation for it
seems to render a level of comfort. I see us at Flemings or strolling around
ponds or cooking brunch; such silly thoughts to need to listen to want to
instruct while cautious not to enforce. (I saw a swan recently, while watching
television, its hydroplane was recapturing: such soft music or delicate mastery
to have existence unbeknownst to itself; this soul unveiled such beauty flying
as skies envelope our horizon). Such to remember a little more, if must I may,
those tiny hands and fingers and toes and those unprovoked chuckles—sore sheer delight
so unaware of occurrences while adults are a bit young at times; but our
weathered tolerance so short at beginnings where a person might be learning how
to both accept and deal with reality. (It’s impossible where plots are
harmonized and no one is speaking righteousness and everyone is living through
another person’s youth and beauty); but I imagine mirrors are becoming vocal
our souls are congested or sweet music has its attachments; to demand a man’s strength
to encourage survival while a man is dying; for a woman is a man’s strength and
time is a man’s adversary while a man needs something always by reinforcements:
to hold his heart, to heal his brains; to imbue his spirits. So, we sense some
idealism in this crucial picture while pixels have fallen out of place; this
silent dark screen, but something is moving, our atomic, or anatomic, psychical
habitats: those rare emotions so untamed while stirring in heart-regions—our palatial
souls at something destroying its future potential where most of us are
behaving according to how we might be received; or something quite crucial,
amazingly uncensored behavior, where one is permitted to crash.
It
becomes imagination to sense you this power created by reservoirs those
lightning rods those pavement annihilations or something sending one into
orbits; to fancy something like this to realize what mother felt or to
understanding altering someone’s future engagements; but truth must speak, this
awkward disposition, where many would ask concerning our friendship: Is it this
or that those feeling questions while presence becomes strongly observant? This
world by mistakes so prior to escaping while a trip through faces reveals
hidden emotions; such undercurrent friction this vest I see to imagine living
life while able to make decisions—this world by imposition this fret over
realities while two might not feel exactly the same: one might need total isolation,
where dependent upon education, another might see potential in investment; this
hardcore eight-ball, this side-pocket angle, where a torch is melting shut our
atmosphere.
Several
clichés approach my mind but none so powerful as deep moving actualities; to
chance at something embedded in oils and freed from caves while most men dwell
by furnace; this fire in essence or this desire to unravel as machines trekking
through snow; this city rejection those missiles in brains while inside
something might need a zipper.
