By Solitude Madness by Guts

I lit a wick—powerful dementia, so felt its delusion!

so vacant from essence or too close to essence while framed as one by caves; such pensive illusion, as it meant something different, while many monks live inwardly; but a dear soul but ruined vineyards but burning orchards; such un-casual intestines such brutal kingdoms while mangled or strung up high and remorse.

The trestle is weary. It carries invisibility. And a little girl hears the trestle.

I debated something. It became sheer discomfort—those insidious eyes!

There was written in time a man’s obituary where a woman read it; or it was videotaped, or digitized while deliverance was its concern; those last rites those purgatorial offerings where God isn’t freedom.

            In those cloves lives a spirit of kindness plus something peculiar. Where in these woods speaks branches or twigs or bears!                 I see time has been aggressive the mind has acquired habits while something oozes into pavement; to have one diminish in order to fly freely while consequences are ruining essence.                       Those noetic eyes those frightened nails where determination becomes inactive.                What does a man ponder, what is his determinate, where such is so deliberate?      To imagine autonomy or to measure independence where if it were jewelry, it would be obtained by now!

I met a younger person.          She was indomitable—or fastidious, or rapacious;                this thing for sugar, such saffron skin, such jabirus wings;            into his life, to exit swiftly, while some fathers can’t cater to mothers;                      for rain thrashes, or city-waves crush islands, or so much anguish mere sight disgusts:                         ruined satisfactions, mathematical scars, while a man leans so closely against knowledge;                         this anomaly observed, or this aberration, while selfsame people would have done in likeness;                        these terns watching or this concrete courting abstractions while so absolutely discouraged: I discern softly. I know your dilemma. But you must learn to obey the skies.             I must ignore this feeling. I must release this emotion. While many are distressed because of a favored design: in which, deference is law, or subversion is outlawed, while one is ecstatic at major concealments; for it doesn’t matter that way, where primary concern is this way, or we are so civilized we have a right to primitive energies;               a bit sarcastic                       I do admit                    but reality is plural!

but I fathom loyalty this wrestling while it’s against desires this fire this feud this fury; so strong in one area                        so weak in another                  while ours has been this nonexistent expectation.      at fever or fervent or failing!                    so  aggravated or such an antagonists while inanimate objects reminds us of what we’re missing;                but inoperative love, or classical conditioning, while framed by its audience; (a man is forced to adjust such radicalized upheavals where he needs peace but cannot attain it); to something like winter                   or summer chills          where a man is battling against his destiny; such visceral particles or such proximity while a daughter wars fire.