We
war a tender beast falling into jungles amazed but stumbling; such in-between
time, such monotony, such humility; to need but excitement to dream but
terrific as encouraged knitted wings; those days recording me if but to know
you while wars were ensuing. Over nautical reigns so cursed it feels passion to
die while something irks; this gnawing phantom this killing absurdity insomuch
as humiliation and grime. If but our last mantra so deep in lava so
sutured and polluted; this holiday sadness reminiscent of something released
while selfish enough to need it back; our first fable this quasi-sculptress
while one is debating his future; to adore like letting go or to adore like
fresh inhalation so attuned to something dying.
I wrestle
tedium this voice languishing while reality is having a party; so knotted so
knitted screaming and knocking by wrath; those fated gates and partway into a
magazine to sudden upon dear disgusts; but a puppet, but so knowingly, so, a
bit closer to his goal; to become a puppeteer while maintaining compassion
indeed such desperate laughs; a wistful motif running such stillness at steel
and iron and ferric clouds; to loosen kilns to unlock doors where a cedarchest
has become an intimate memory—those memoir fires, this steep monotony, to
realize such feral activity; our aches our nonchalance or a nation raging with
anger; to look so closely and thereby see nothing while many are wrestling with
winds; to light a clove to get into a moment so clear so convinced while
memories are wreaking havoc; but a pearl to some but a mistake for me but this
is how it unravels. This life bedded in personalities where she wouldn’t for
one but she was desperate to for another; this angel in his eyes this monster
for others but this reflects upon a man’s proclivities; our interior hassle as
if yesterday passed grayly while in actuality it lives forever; as ancient
antiques seated upon a mantle so serious it looks—while patience is virtue or
pure trust is alarming in an age where distrust and deception are first
principles; so, we tug-away, and we remodel this space filled with existential furniture;
seldom against love but too damaged to appreciate love while good people are
slipping by.
I was
so amazed this feeling where pure altruism appeared. I practice at this while
not believing in this where mentioning it has weakened its value. Those vacant
stares or her busy schedule or needing time to regroup. So away into you or so
far from finding us where reality is having a party; at a jazzy emotion sipping
energy and realizing it will never happen; this realist claim where it offers
sanity as opposed to pining so much one is missing his life; to imprint stars
to communicate with moons while our sun is pleading to bathe us. This plush
carpet those few lines while Love was perfect for another person; such locket
love such similar outfits while so concerned with another’s position; a moving
koan a kidnapped heart while little angels are crocheting; this tingly song
this tandem of emotions so softly sung; to need this soul to complete this
horizon to need to return to the best in us; this mental lagoon this lotic
passion or such pensive undecidedness; banished from an old me so allergic to
mishaps while awakened by a mere gesture; this world of events, those winsome
hands, while feeling quite amazed.
Those
times we wrestle seated in blankness imagining something else should be in
motion; this whelming feeling those ancient thoughts while non-stimulants are
agitating; to see life this closed-openness those innate circuits as souls need
to reap an inheritance; by ripened emotion so churned by promise so electric as
rising creatures; if but to outsoar monotony if but to satiate a given feeling if
but to ink-print our existence.
