I see
impressions long into wilderness to live exhausted; the terror of being loved
the agony of pure ambition while propelled by mystic phantoms.
Vinegar
lines or jigsaw puzzles so anxious to have met.
By candor
to insist by methods to resist such cute cuddly kittens.
I have
little to refuse or more to refuse while so close to midnight.
If but
to court insanity or to maneuver through phones while guts build binoculars.
I see
afar this subtle activity to then say: Something is wrong.
Moving
to windows such carpet as glass by weather or secerns.
To distinguish
between measures while one is furious to imagine an important plebeian.
Or to
watch as skies interrogate or truths hurt too much.
If but to fly a
little above fate or to become anti-sensitivity; by levels higher so forced to
participate where one is pleading for responses; to dislodge one or to religion
another while it becomes societal ritual; for we know it offends we know its
there while we must pursue some anti-social behavior.
I couldn’t
understand, it seemed displaced, while response determines intensity. It will
never stop, it distinguishes itself, or it uses one as a release valve; the
sheer declaration, indeed, those turns, while maladaptive means something
different; born for disposition, even practicing disposition, similar to
treating one by similarities; where something must ask, in this land of affairs:
Does it come so naturally?
Buddhology
becomes Buddhist!
So much into a
thought, where anger must be summonsed, for it’s buried deeply; it must
exercise it’s not for exorcism where it should speak its language. I must be
you in order to friend you while opposites attract seems a bit askew; if one is
fluid any stream fits but most, in this arena, are set by direction.
It looks
outrageous, it speaks by perceptions—it’s such disparity by its understanding. It
knows for it is, it sounds unsung, it stands against clarity, but it is crystal
clear.
It knows
my crevices, in valleys or caves, while anger ensues because the seal has been
broken. Once the image dies those emotions shift while most people feel guilty:
internal combat or visceral memories where most intimacies depend upon power
structures. Those signals by cosmos or undercurrents in closeness while often
we pay for another’s insults.
