I
become detached or unknitted while walking omens; so many phantoms such gray
affliction while response is perception; searching by understanding, or
revolting from nausea or filled by indigestion; those fibric cartwheels those
edgy underpinnings while life is by a few dungeons.
I
seldom believe it, but it must exist, else, the coin is rigged; nevertheless,
some must be with joy that fount of rubies those golden windfalls; by chance we
scrabble or piece puzzles remaining thoughts concerning thresholds. Our disbelief
as power into floats while achy at crossroads.
It
was life in you to sense sadness functioning highly while beauty was a soft
scent; so disheartened to lose you so aroused to return while leniency took to
sails; overpowered or outwitted another was the skies of your spell; such
outcome so proud to wed so specific your
plans.
Sometime
we imagine or form a feeling wrestling with the best of ourselves; to capture
quality while discarding defeat so determined to fly; some deliberate so close
to perfection where blueprints are steady for the edifice; whereto, rigidity
forms, cotton becomes pavement where dice
are
sanctified.
It
was mannequin city to stare a little or to admire someone going through more
training; those mystic sagas those cultic cliffs where you were evolved; it was
majestic the aura was intense while certain afflictions carry a countenance;
such security in an insecure element while reminded inwardly to stay strong;
such secular piety, or pious roots, where life was overhauled.
Days
are complex where routines are simplistic while ruffled time and again.
By
flirtation to spice up existence while it gets complicated those energies;
chaste for so long, reviewing alternatives, or warring inner wildness; while a
soul covets peering into sky-ribbons or debating perceived luxuries; our
nightingales our tortures our realization.
I
see self as this creature this interior mechanism; to ask for something,
responding to its flavor, while so much is unaddressed: those hooks in soil or
boots to mountains or baby elephants we give carte blanche; in perils or
deaths into love or lusts as souls caged by comforts.
It
was hard senses or lighter concerns while buds bubbled unconsciously; to invest
in a dream to venture the land has oil where evidence is but an aura. Our minds
at hills our candles aflare our contentment depends upon harmonies; those
outlandish spirit-flames or so conditioned to hope as for screams or demons
appeased by lilacs; to haunt in soul to gut-topple or flurry where Agony needs
more than wishes; our romantic aches if but to run into skies where today is
such a promise by tomorrow; those sublime undercurrents or subterranean
converse, or whispers against Love.
