so
adrift but magic looking at countenance energy so blatant in mudslides; those gorgeous
eyes that furrowed brow those delicate tendons—so alive and dying, this future
in turquoise to have used us for goodness; such drastic attraction such bipolar
twins if but to effect like mind-waves; this weak man those angelic wishes to
become perpendicular cries; so low those moments ruminating upon a psych while
Love was innocent manipulation; to feel like losing to wind a windmill or crazed
a quixotic trance; but over-there, this bold damsel, this woman at something
terrible; to sit and daze-off to become concentration while a soul is so
curious; as silent voices so charged with electricity to thump a heart and keep
it moving; so enlove with circuits while it becomes deceptive but damn it felt
good to feel you; those delightful panic-stations those remarkable characters
so inclined to adore granny; but arms with venom or tales so gigantic where it
was passion to feel your malice; so purified so detached while I needed an opportunity
to dance without self-hatred or to love for one child while so devastated by
sugar and poison; our silent voices our challenged pyramids and so much intimacy
we deteriorate kissing deserts; such soft mystical music such anger to adore
you or such deficit to obtain you; this man with agony this sin with wings so
cursed to passion us; but on to something pushed or something critical to have
changed so radically—those crystal palms this glass feeling this mirror in
panic those zombie days seated so close while sinking and the mind is operating—those
deep treasures so alive to think with us it might be godlike; our gut-emotion
our tender dissatisfaction looking at others and imagining something distinct
from mine; to relive in us to rethink in you while Love is so beautiful at writhing;
inner city blues our confused songs our drama killing our intestines; this
abyss life those shouting emotions while I could never love accordingly—to bring
you so close and to push you so afar while dying to imagine our interior love;
this rocket passion to roll and die and explode—but a creature in city panic or
asking for more while enough is just the beginning; such begging and pleading
such relapse and anguish while so close to one as if our balance; so indebted
or such a ritual to shift with the waves of her personality.
too
delicate to animalize or to false to face truth at something so incredible—tugged
by feelings or multiple interactions while reasoning seems so overrated; our
cries our deaths our sullen destruction; to enter like winning to come to
imagination so fueled but unknowing—this feudal problem those distrustful
creatures so close to falling for animalism; this normal practice and no one is
special while it has become routine; our pillaged eyes our pillaged guts while
becoming closer to an antisocial creature; but one seems healthy and Love seems
normal while Love is dearly enlove—this ache in passion this fuse in brains but
a day’s adventure; to miracle an event to solace a kiss while awakening
screaming into silence; so ruined for others so uncured and sizzling where
hearts are overcooked; this raw mentality this unthawed legacy so energized so
deliberate; looking for rapture accused of delirium while he never meant to
adore so deeply; those capturing gestures those meditated approaches where a
fool might give in; but days are smarter and intelligence is viable, where blue
jays laugh and joke and jest; our terrific enclosures our fantastic deep cries
while Love is quite an emphatic believer; this frantic curse to have adored ice
while forced to refreeze feelings; so pure in moments such havoc into seconds,
while thrust through with spears.
