so
axed by status or arranged by complexion or suffering for I need her: cultural
animal, by mental Rolex, to give more than I share. so indebted to misery, this
fluidity by malaise, so fair an unfair doctor; those years meant nothing, a man’s
image meant nothing, for she understood the beast in self; at chrome prose, so
dead it felt like living, while perception determines our feelings. “You have
philosophy, you are part white, thus, we are cautious of your acceptance”: but
they have harmed me, they have kidnapped my child, Dear Jesus, how do I love
them? such average intuition or so
bleak its foggy, while Anguish is so damn gorgeous; but a furious man, but a
maddening creature, where if passion would swim, if but to annihilate
redemption, if but so close an infraction left stigmata. I have adored their
women, I have taught our women, while we hassle over this deep distinction. our
women are trying harder, they mimic ivory flesh, they straighten their mane; as
souls needing essence, if but that feeling—our men mistaking our identity: too
near to ignore, while we want those favors, insomuch as to retain an intimate
tumor. I had something familiar. I loved something with a private ideology. I was
smitten but unappreciative. I lost me I lost leadership plus The Adored was
willing to reestablish neighboring buildings.
