I
was left with panic those first remnants where something struck a nerve. the
second one I questioned or consorted while trembling with shivers. something
smiled as mythic while something mystic grimaced back—it was meta-sociality;
our cured senses our radical liquids where inhibitions distress honesty; those
engines bleeding this cave unlocked or picking at clouds afraid to soar
further; this kicking of rocks this steel ocean or bleeding or un-fogged where
no one listens. I wanted more than needed, it was accidental, while it glowed
and then it died; another man’s Love, as if more extraordinary, such raging
charisma: a dark secret, when it glistens, and even darker, when it vanishes.
such sharp balloons, as addressed but unthawed, and it’s amazing to watch
deviance; those swift moves, or screaming sincerity, where we misconstrue
bodily behavior; for its never right until it’s wrong where cameras must be
present; such luggage in us, to carry satchels of contempt, while a stranger
has to pay homage; if but valued riches or souls captured to have given what
life sees as next; numerical sociality, or scars at four, while nothing has
touched its solution. as cavalier packages, or needing rage as climatic, such
deep remorse. I have so little history. I have scraped both mudslide and
exosphere. I have given my peace!
