It's open mic in
there, such another loss, where behaviors were pricking. The meadow was
deceptive, the crime was aphorisms, while we need some acceptance. There lived
a child, fraught by poverty, where one elder encouraged her. Those deeper stimulants
those cherished tidbits where others were removed. I felt discernment.
I washed her face. I was effaced. This edifice city those taller buildings
while inspecting genotypes. If your eyes
dispute me, I only ask one favor—ask self if perception is rooted-discomfort;
for we become our angers, as chamber-born insecurities, while needing something
from strangers. This time
beefing invisibility, in want of particulars, while it felt good to vanish. Such a beating reality where some are granted
indemnity while one must be careful; for ears listen where eyes are upset while
in most cases, others demand more of us. By strange palms a man might fly—or come
to an impasse. Our controlling
traits. Our richer necessities. Where some desire intestines. I became passive. I became
assertive. Or I refused while I endured. Those
mental tides. Those interior elephants. Where many loses were determined. It was some time ago, enduring disdain, where a
man needed closeness. By a subtle design whereby a man might reject his
integrity to become derision: her friend, her project, where a few are too
obstructed to understand; but this is reality, while many hope this way, where
a person sees humanity: those
zinnia flowers alongside those trowels right next to the water-hose; indeed, a
man looks at a woman, with something conquering him, reminded dearly of deep rejection;
or a man is disinterested, wherefore, pain ensues, where a sudden chemistry is
embedded; to have essence disappear, where pruners were bilking, at some
faraway camera. To
let souls be or to resort to creativity after something desiring its motive:
such saws and shears left in jungles where ants are thoughts; a carved heart,
as to implode the message, if but to prove an inner lake.
