Wild
lights or underrated courage in a world with split motives.
At
deeper insecurities so spatial so delicate; to have admired beauty to have used
myself or by resilience to have misused myself; as unutilized fire fretting
flame too close to divide; so underdeveloped faced by pure darkness while facts
are irrelevant; some type of person some incredible creature where doubt is
never an operative.
We become machines. We become
intolerant. It becomes a circle of resistance:
such struggle against self or
persons or existence.
In
a world of abstracts, or searching for self-concrete, we are often
disappointed. Such black-market insistence, or those constant evaluations,
while fleeing into something distressing; this seesaw island those sawdust
promises while texture depends upon reception; (to notice interior, the way it
operates, to fuss, debate or confab at intervals); remembered eyes or sensuous
underpinnings while realism is averted;
this fantasy feeling this easy
dismissal or cursed by genetics.
Private
boundaries in self, at terrific sorrow, while knowing something intuitively;
this outstanding detachment while racing intimately where anxiety is chasing; afraid
to sit in silence for fear of missing lights while insistence becomes detours;
such music in pain as such unfettered mind-caves insomuch as to create
something running back; our tender catapults our unphysical evidence where one
might deceive reflection.
Something
terrible takes us, this internal operation, where we assume actuality; most
information comes by messenger, if we believe in the messenger, we are persuaded
to believe the message.
It is a circled reality, from mouth
to ears, while a few search-out a second source.
But
something to needs roaming our mindstates where easiness is never our issue; as
demanded creatures surfing energies so distraught or too eager; this thin balance
those church-filled eyes or wrangling with that interior desire; reviewing our
angst or unlocking suppression in such movement or inertia. Raw ruthless
conundrums while aggravated forward in such a sense we determine inadequacies;
either to reach deeper, or to surrender, or to repaint our picture.
Those determined
insights, as needing thoughts to sustain, where existence might be false. Our belief
in actualities our understanding of pain while our inner world is quite at
peaks. As casual observers, reaching for medals or configuring mandalas; to
live by codes where such are in limbo while we knit concrete or abandon
determination. (Something eats guts this defeated feeling while reality is
innovative.)
