We
burrow into spirit seeking buoyancy so imagined in ourselves; those corrugated
rooftops or ceilings lying to me or this leaning fence with a hole in it; to
die that color, to undig our bones, if but to speak by sinews.
Those smokestacks this chimney lung
or this feeling in humans.
Our buoyed melancholy Our chemistry
mistakes Our minds unleashed.
I
once adored it spinning into it the flamboyancy of an artist; so close to it so
enslaved by it but a surf paying on a rented mattock; mental tenements or deadly
crosses or so close to losing we adore abuse; to ungift arteries to rehouse
sentiments where Agony is molasses; this slow drip this humanistic condition
while needing so close to one our kidneys!
Like rewriting lines, fresh from a
movie, as all of me to exhaust emotion.
Such
a husk to carry such a daughter to envision such stars or atmosphere; so
brittle a human so touchy an attitude while depression is over-studied fatigue:
our huffy debris those
lands we roam or those corridors we travel; this holy vestibule so many carton-rooms
insomuch as becoming ecstatic; those guffaw hallways those comedic ironies
where such image must suffer.
I
reappear to mirrors after days of sensories while muffling or murmuring; those
abyss regions those portal eyes to imagine those things we justify; such
internal brawling such instinctive intuition at something too real to exist; an
ocean of cries a sea of flames while boiling water was refrigerated.
I
will never win essence where deep sawdust has become a mini-leviathan; a man
needing council or a woman lost afar where rationality sounds like grenades.
We recolor wheels we
whiff religiosity or we go in so steeply we never return; but many are stagnant
or sluggish or bleaching their receptors; these creatures possessing modicum
power while mighty amid the pressure; those cryptic cycles where clowns are
pleasant but we sense this painful current.
If
but our last draft seated in helium with that reaper asking questions; where
deeds are accounted where excuses are measured as by inrush, we fret
emotion; those feelings this gut to realize purging.
