What
becomes of the living creature?
What
becomes of those breeding walls?
I didn’t
hear her, nor see her, but she was flying. We agitated life, or frustrated
patience, and became angry. We would desire kindness, but give indifference,
while condemning resistance. This spyglass crystal, or mental binoculars, while
concentration is segueing.
I would come to dislike her. We would
come to loathe art. She would come to reboot me.
It’s a war, in
these jungles, where two sides are out to win: by annihilation or total
surrendering or by taking prisoners; the sickness the cruelness while
justified. Those elements or those galaxies where in time anything was proper.
To come from such creeds, to decree mayhem across the land, or to suffice with
mutilation. (but so close to human, so rechanneled, accused of what can’t be
understood—such light banter, such extreme reception, while both are innocent
of dispute; such a cautious group, arranged at seas, but too withdrawn to have
struck those showers; our innocent arcs our never-to-die souls or so perfect
this time around; as pure philanthropists needing nothing but one’s success, so
enduring, so longsuffering, so misread!) I am not sarcastic, where this isn’t
us, but hopes to tap that globe. Those keen antennae or those rebel instincts
where color is something we paint with brushes: or gore in spirit, whetstones
in brains, where a man may converse with walls; our shocked responses, our
deeper irony, while one should not be able to sense us; our warm intentions,
our rules and dynamics, or days at graves refusing bread. Such difficult pain,
such determined hurt, such roaring fire!
I think
to comforts, those tiny limbs, as one screams and laughs and senses affection.
But ours is murky
marsh, where one must surrender, if not, certain things are enacted: so alive
in that instance, given life through adversity, but it never confesses those
elements; to need confrontation or uneven by glasses where it’s not so serious
to life; our banished niceties our core frustration or tugged for yanked
without full participation—but partial a lime or revving a lemon while one does
not approve of relations; or wanting similar benefits, where one so rated, has
the ability to love so skeptically; such roving valleys such courtside tickets
where no matter what—he is wrongness! This animal creature, this calm map, at
something many cannot fathom; but is it normal for whites, and abnormal for
blacks, and if so, would one be validating that claim?
