it was
dearly omic this day. so much garbage or
such sweet penchants at core vacuums or stale laundry as dying to reincarnate or
flying but absent while feuding salience and bounty; the glorious countenance
so sacred it lies while pure darkness gave birth to utter diamonds; this person
so distant this mirror with half truths or Love so magnetic but ordinary; the
same frets those familiar insecurities so easy that way so hard this way;
something nonchalant or something
killing angels
while poignant and nice or purely vicious; this old style this center agenda
where juries evaluated and announced, “Not Guilty”; a mile to sanctity a
kilometer to insane where we value a calming aura; but Love is curious and Love
is dismissive and Love has hated our season; whereas, Love is glamorous or Love
is perfect while paradox and fever dislodges interiority.
so favored
you are in this orb of passions while I pine each day and lie to myself: “He’s
mean like that this walking disaster this man’s freedom where claiming nothingness
is essential to reclaiming the hem”; terms are insignificant and dynasties are impertinent
so what shall we exonerate—this pencil this pen this domestic interior at
nights screaming or hot sweats grieving or not a word while winnowed by
concentration; to hear one so dismissive to imagine their lives
while a glance
points to terrific dissatisfaction; but children or husbands or wives this
deeper dishonesty this reason we deny self or this anger for years has become
holidays; such a stream or such deliberateness while I haggle over which comes
first; a delicate bracelet or a talisman necklace while little Simeon is head
over hills enlove; this twelve year old those intellectual deficits while
everything was given in honor of deaths; those few keepsakes or this mental
locket such sound and barriers or such thistles and briers while leaping or
shunning tumbleweed.
amazing
but tender this mistake this purpose those winds or wings forced to react; pure
flapping while the ground is chasing where a parachute would be nice; poison
painted pictures or cellar arcades at something fragile while despised for
observations; to need peace but it challenges integrity while most people
sacrifice pieces every second; such analytical damages as
catapults
to creativity where a man forgives mother for giving this (controversial) gift;
our intimate omega our impulsive
beginnings where one was so natural he missed making but Love; torn bliss this
castle near tracks while nothing in them was forgiving; our different accounts
so pure and religious but hell be certain this one will die first.
“We
have done our best plus he is not normal where it becomes giving it to God; it
seems like a trance going through this battle or attempting to listen to other
positions; if it is meant it shall move this closet it shall break this sky
indeed before heaven permits this sinister forgiveness; for life has been its
deliverance and if God wants something that force becomes human and knocks at
your door.” we imagine such language we sense satire while determination
becomes something we must (study).
