We
lose shapes or colors or tones into damages and sex and lusts.
We
fair well while dressed such undressed intimacy while another is having
ecstasy.
This
velvety texture, those titillating talons, to claw, persuade or trickle fluids.
I have died listening I have
showered in acidic rain or driven such weightless ambition; to engender Invisibility
to unravel isolation or to show for talents and dedication; those torn battles
this feral uneasiness while many are at hopes for Christ.
I
heard whispers or saw doors while a desk kept insisting upon itself. I felt
padding or carpet or something too simplistic; as housing bodies an uneasy
blueprint while Timothy is cringing and crying into a corner; walls bubble with
prints, blood trickles gently, this room was meant for horrors. Those computers
listen, those faint hands are typing, but they are too aloof to claim
intimacies. Indeed, what for such passions, into gray lights, over black
bulbous bile? This pain is unsteady and this armor is falsehood while too much
puts doctors in therapy.
I sparked a clove leering
into shadows so spacial so ghostly; to have met a psychotic this weather as
raindrops hits hair and mizzles downward; much a detriment one feeling enormous
while tingling or satiate-distrusts; our music so unrelenting our guts as
furious our dreams pushing into those hallways; too concerned to desist, too
distraught to withdraw, or too withheld not to sing; but a decent soul,
physically alarming, able to generate pure heat; but more to ambivalence or
unsung dying where Love was spooky.
There
is another person in that very reflection and raging into sky-fences; running
rabidly or found freezing why cleaving or climbing into orbits; such faint
language such faint words while we retreat to send a message; so detached while
so noticed where we die feeling lonely; but Love is her beginnings, and Love is
her shows, and Love is her family. This complex dilemma, for though I love and
adore, I wish to be loved and adored; this need for immortality, to realize
something inconspicuous, where a man’s woman is far more lascivious than what was
advertised. This war in souls, this man needing security, or something
submitting to ownership.
I must be clear, into
this split reality, where each person is pieced together by multiple entities;
some are more pronounced where others are dormant while latent aspects peak in
and out; not as crazed persons, but evolved creatures, while the brains are
ever growing.
I assisted in this
debacle I remanded this feeling where woes and crises were running ramped. I opened
something this tiny box while Pandora rummaged my interior soul. Where beauty
was imagination or careful impetuosity into something too foreign to crosspollinate;
to exist as one both intrigued and skeptical—at darker cries; to want for
spectacular, in an aging vehicle, while to wane softly might mean to lose
greatly.
