we have
a situation a dearer cry where a daughter reflects—such reflexive understanding
such fishing inside or days it doesn’t make its quarter. so
much
by sensories so graphic our algorithms or cursed and Cajun while European.
this
wealth of wells this kite or storm as to discover energies;
too
cautious one way, or too open another way, while most people are too trusting;
but a father pitching pebbles but a daughter on a pedestal or but two so
immature;
this
mean feature while reluctant to die where one offers his guts.
there
are meadows such silent nature while nearby is a creek: looking at algae or
feeding ducks where something probes our explosive hearts; to adore like crazy
to touch phantasms or mimes and winds or geese;
so
uncured trying our households with little access to reasonability;
such
close comforts while familiar or so enthralling;
those
late evening thoughts this curse to ensure where most things are
uncertain.
I have
excuses
I have
treasuries
while
a whole family is excellent; by never an infraction by never a curse, and mind
you, so pleased by every decision.
Life
is purely inclusive. The rain is symbolic. While we explore gnats and ants and
centipedes.
our
cultured
minds whether rational or unclear
so
much to extract so much to receive or so little to manage; as suffering
machines so released by tendencies while hatred rules so many families; those
good people we endure or those bad people we ostracize while each person has
this right; it becomes normal it becomes our angst our pain our traumas:
those
eagles hovering those falcons as sphinxes
or a
daughter learning first hand to hate: it can’t be healthy; it must then be
unhealthy; but it’s endorsed—notwithstanding: our roles, where some are not
there, to imagine we have forsaken our roles.
what
happens nearby, where we can’t find leadership, while examples are influential?
The cage
of our mountains! The dark dreary caves. So attuned to existence obeying us.
such
fair oak, such cypress those doors, to achieve something redesigned to flourish;
our wars we sing our victories such heavy loses while we dislike people that
don’t want to participate; those freedom chasers or those that find us
disgusting while provided a haven to escape from fragmentation; our signals
mixed our struggles flexible while we feel cement drying.
