If
but to fly to outweigh circumstance or to out-soar caricatures; those fretted
conundrums those lakes her eyes or such vinegar offering its sweetness;
to
feel cheated to need submission where most do not see you; our baffled reality
where another is smaller while ethics do not depend upon reception;
to
be trusted with petit things, to violate that trust, where reality is watching;
that silent desk this raffle for authenticity while a life passes by but
unvetted:
those last shovels this
violent actuality insomuch as no one is listening.
I come to silence or
voice, divorced of certain features, while disgusted with this muddy situation;
we meet them at times they stagger through existence while quite angry our lips
haven’t touched pavement; maybe they sing acapella or maybe they have a quartet
where others are mere specimens; they become fears while neglected, but we each
feel of some importance; to leave this there, to take up his helmet, so
unspoken but carrying too much.
I
reknit doubts so spatial but emphatic while life presents trouble.
It
was early morning when I saw contempt but by rules we try to believe; these principles
suggest boundaries these lines we do not cross in order to maintain modicum
structure—in a hapless environment; but living sacrifices plus disgusted
avenues where color was so aesthetic; to watch when praise flounders, when one
is so appreciative, indeed, a slight risk.
We
anger once seen we need anonymity if but to deceive our public.
—but
Pain was once gentle so flowery with such zest and zeal; this optimistic
creature this lively enthusiast at tiptoeing upon winds; a deep friendly voice
a fiery fever where we wondered if amazement was the right sentiment; a
frontline activist, a powerful striking silence, or something daring to right
wrongs; what happened, Vigor; where have the petals fallen; while now boulders
speak as if time is riddled—?
These
forceful factors, this vacant poison, and so disgusted with youth.
I must entail this
marketed feeling as one bent and shook; those blanket realities this course
through doubts as mere creatures subjected to circumstance; but rules we cater
to if but to function as souls where chaos is ever at our surface; as such a
small man in this deeper dungeon for one to take offense to countenance; as
darkness pursues us, we must do all to stand, to dance therefore as angelic aspirants;
but I have attacked and days are benighted where glory is suffocating; this
theologian failing this mark coloring his castle where intensity is gripping
his centerpiece.
