so
infantile as to look like crazy asking for intimate oceans. a man with deaths
attempting normality while shedding tendencies. this feature module those deep
reservoirs after minds with treasures. if but to die one last time fueled by
deeper schisms. I approached with fever I was glowing wildly but Love was aware.
that inner psychologist this purposed psychiatrist this elegant physiologist—such
facial reminders while tugging or pulling but backwards. our mathematics our
deeper pseudepigraphs while sure to afire Sibylline. the day to reckon this
soul to gather where I wish this day as the greatest. but now to stories or deep
ventures where a person feels his regrets.
so
many laughing while unsure of giggles to evaluate one beyond her hemispheres;
studying with verve, or tickling some gray-matter, while neurotransmitters are
mainly responsible; such aged debates where science is whispering while some things
are not known—but given to human chemistry.
Love
was a miracle so nonchalant but I admired such rebellion.
how
to win in this glen of travesties? so infused or so delicate while I saw what
was hidden. that soul by trillions that lake by shores after crystals or horizons
or by wars to have gathered scars; our fortunate memoirs to share with a
stranger, late night at Denny’s in Beverly Hills.
it
was 3 a.m. those sharks watching where decency desired refuge. so touched by
feelings to become vulnerable while charged or revved or reminded about sheer redemption.
