I spend
mornings talking with life this incognito pantomime where realization is
self-reflective; but a second to regroup but a moment to abhor while something
listens by emotion; our battles self-sewn our realities one-sided as pushed
through myopic telescopes; to imagine you at something gentle becomes easy to
sense; needing those chains as requiring those chains while angry about broken
chains; thereinto, this strewing of seeds those fertile grounds and hereupon
this war brewing into soil. But it was difficult to ignore, it was hell to play
pretend, where memories are always jaded; wherewith, a casual soul so sunk into
addiction so strong and so withered;
to cry impatience
to honor particular sentiments while so interchangeable; those perfected rounds
this breaking into pieces these strange requirements; as rushed through life,
or refilmed behaviors, with unmixed hostilities; so imagined deeper
insecurities while ours turn against us and those dislike our music; (to watch
closely while admiring my inadequacies to realize I am not working with a full
kit; this ravishing feeling over something being theirs while here the issue
becomes indifference; those times it was easy as such backlash where a person
is incapable of trust; to imagine this realism where a man ventures out and
connects with the most horrible person possible); but daisies are in place, our
Zen garden is motion, and we shall never speak again; this rich hope as it
gravens our souls but life is often disappointing. We never mention this we
hold a stronger position and we sell optimism; indeed, many moments are
spectacular and life becomes an adventure while in actuality much of life is monotony.
It becomes a clove
stationed at lips such smog and smoke; to have a liquid thought to recoil
slightly while reflecting upon glacier implications; as knowing we do not know
and seeing we do not see while something is registering; this deceitful
mechanic those lowly receptors at something terribly frustrating; this gap in
science where feelings are integral but logic is prided; to divorce from self
this hard earned loss where one becomes quite abnormal; but acting is in
effect, while we master how to behave, in accordance with various situations.
I spend nights
debating softly in reality wondering concerning this incomplete feeling; those
radical assessments, looking at radical possibilities, while something that
ingratiating might prove hazardous; but so replete at times where the mind
shadows its ideologies and beauty is found in increments; such beliefs we
possess where they mostly protect us while this is evolution; imagining hominid
dangers, or even simplicities, where I couldn’t see one debating its existence;
in our winnings we lose something delicate and in our loses we gain something
delicate; as in the former we might lose our receptors and in the latter we
might gain our receptors; either/or, it becomes painful, it becomes
excruciating, where I realize the brains must shift.
She was
most firm and polite and discrediting. I couldn’t fully phantom but something
was uneasy and reality was battling itself; to imagine something one way and to
receive something another way this becomes a time for reflection; if but to un-gravel
something conceptual as to wrestle with filaments in an effort to loosen
indifference.
