I
should respond. I must respond. But something isn’t interested in responding.
I
must lie, for something needs deepness, while something is uncultivated. Such inadequacies—longing
while warm—or losing admiration; for gentle freedom, for walking pavements, for
eyes that would first die.
It
was hellish sorrow while looking for us where it was easy to discard us. But a
sensitive man losing his marbles at jumping electricity; to meet so casually,
to ache in purity, or to arise while stalking our exits.
Where
passion simmers or stews percolate it becomes death by satisfaction; such a weird
guy running from rescue while helicopters are previewing for landing; so sick
by independence where we must cleave in an attempt to nurture self-worth; a man
gunning as to achieve where something simple has become complexity.
I
respect something keen. I dislike something tricky. But I enjoy thinking.
Those
whales are heavy, those gorillas are friendly, but the drongo is playing its
game.
—so lost in politics but
too deprived to decipher while watching this one parent home; a man in flesh as
reviewing my case while jumping through cultural assumptions: What is it
like to live in your home? Is this a two-unit home? What does your
mother do? Deeper thoughts erupt: They’ll take you away.
Don’t tell them I use. Watch those people—
An
entire life skiing or grappling with slopes while a mentor or two would be
delightful; at core brains looking at something beyond while wondering about
self-worth; to redeem an addict or to presume an addict while most feel quite
normal; it becomes perception this peeling away layers while one might discriminate;
this status essence, this place in societies, while one glitch ruins
conception; but a soul lost sanity, that soul resurrected, even to function at
a high capacity; so lost at inquiry, so concerned with mother, or attached to a
woman playing rabbit.
—so found in his aura, or
so against his politics, to answer those questions: My home is secure. My
mother raises me alone. She is a stay at home mother—
Does she hit you?
No!
Do you like living there?
Yes!
Indeed!
A person want’s Tim’s life, but for attachment, plus, a high level of guilt.
