I
hew reality by steep inhibition weakened by chemistry. I unvet those bells I
sing opera if but more hallways. such hands running or prints by silence while
doorposts anger us. a fallen teacup, so shattered, such pieces or particles so
close to lives. scented rooms. or feeble grayness. by fringes or stockyards so
dear those mumbled vibes. by undulation an underground-meadows those brown-
owl-eyes. born as a stranger if to arrive by familiarity our tremors or shocks.
(those hands so deliberate as accustomed to nightmares.) so dearly powerful
such my enemy for he wouldn’t submit. such prisms into violence while asking
for something impossible. to bleed for brick to supply nothing while those
whips are injustice. the television is silent, I see my reflection, but sounds
are coming from our ceiling; thus by intellect, where a mind projects itself,
where others are vigil or demanding. it becomes trauma, where one lives it,
while another needs evidence. more them then us. such hail or storm. where
obviously one is suspicious. such notes or forest such subjectivity while we
get close to observing our wants. the prow is heavy. we wrangle by the helm.
while the ship is straying from its course. so gallant those mornings. or so
constrained. where something is wrestling. the bosom of demons. the belief in
harbingers. or the curse of silence!
