The rain
falls to pavement, the seas are swooshing, the sun is clouded or pain covers pavement
and souls are rapid falls where spirit-rise is shrouded by an overcast.
I have
affinity for life those deep tragic crevices while art was appealing near
misery.
…quiet dark rooms
into essence listening to unspoken cadence; those times we hushed sorrow those
winds we ignored or us thrown in another’s arms; such sick reasoning such
centered rationalization if but to adore our images; our souls as seeds our
screams as weapons while armor or breastplate became caricature; our private
jokes, to care the other is hurt, while we ingest a trillion dollar cookie….
It was
essential to love or to flower or to fret so distinctly those apples; or beauty
becoming its sin while we hypnotized our guts, and radicalized our minds.
