Alleluia, those sunshine
arcs so glitchy so spectacular. Those caramel eyes those a-color colorful legs
at something you understand trenchantly. Those blackened moons this irritation
while a man attempts to break out: this flesh prison, those romantic gestures,
under such steel and determination. I watch the mind scratch as polluted but
sincerely clean; this paradox our ghetto sin where reality seems inappropriate;
this wagon man, those vats buried, at rasps and raspberries; if but one
terrific science if but one terrific galaxy while psychiatry makes me nervous:
those giant souls carrying what we forfeit or estranged from anything so close;
our battles in veils our triggers so palpable where realism is something for
auction; such ember-spiders or lemur cuteness while a man may appreciate he
must be respectful; this hard killing task or a number of months some type of
atypical intimacy; indeed, I ponder mother, this mean person, but we managed
something irregular; to see our auras to feel our countenances one might
suggest something is wrong: a lady watched us, she became uneasy, she wanted to
know how we live like that; indeed, this terrible closeness, this raging
agenda, so perfect in its science.
Those
days, halleluiah, those vines such damage or apricots and nativity—to
become obsessed this island I dare to venture while Love is so alienated. I
know this anchor; I am in awe of this anchor; where something furtive is at its
majesty. Such agile spirituality those moments its leaping so concerned with
identity; but images fade into time and something deliberate seems askew but we
give benefit to doubts; this strange miracle for many are with malice and they
intend that thing we felt; but reasoning is tricky it leans towards perceptions
where we must nurture our independence.
I
was at infatuation somewhere in high school and I admired my conception. I
never saw her and I never heard her but we called it by love.
Those
days blur with existence this omen in me this black forest; to watch such
deliberation to sense such courage while one is somewhat lost.
so
dark and misty or such gloomy mirrors while agony pours into something subtle. to
lose feelings while gaining feelings at emotions and blight and listening to
our radars; our miracle minds so challenged by reality so wretched but feeling
joy; those compounds this illogical rationality where a miserable person writes
a thesis on happiness; such deeper roots where I could understand my opposite
in an attempt to outwit my predicament; such radiant paradox where I fathom my
box and I can explain how to escape it; if but for others, if but for
exercises, but never desired fully for self. this sunless fire those unlit
aggravations while horizons are so foggy; to love something unknown to teach
oneself about others with no other reflection but his mirror; this rational
device while ignoring intuition for it depends upon his rapid elevation; to
know self is to know existence—and this becomes a probing analysis.
so
dusky here in caves such mind-bats where they go haywire; a man trying for
clarity but Love is smarter and Love is accustomed; such inky malaise so deep
into persistence while a woman admires gusto; so fair a secret this rich chasm
while it hasn’t been those things I condemn; if but to know a universal
weakness, we do not hate our universe, but rather, we adjust our perception;
those mental crypts this tomb in travail or our labors and inciteful concerns.
