I
sung absolutes or gray filters so valued such cadence. I loved by interior
aboding in salience while uneven concerning how we shift. to look by energy
those frames changing where all things should be in flux; either goodness or
impaired, either truths or lies, where we die a bit each conversation. to want
peace while some work harder where many get exhausted by compromise. a man lost
big in such a way it broke spirit where he regrew but never by sameness. (you
have nothing in me, but the rosy sweetness of Ry, while this might account for
promise.) so much rethinking so much humiliation insomuch as a man feels
embarrassed. as imagining a Dove as it descends upon a person, where many of us
are filthy. I engage lately, in subtle distractions, where something small is
infuriating—so fierce for intentional, as we never evaluate, while an addict
might say, “I'm angered, for you did this on purpose.” I know something,
concerning your pride, so, I’d never ask for sympathy; moreover, life was
royal, in an ignoble cosmos, while some things have erupted our perceptions.
that passive man, that accommodating soul, he has been destroyed. but he
resurrects as more a covering while most are unhappy with this. it seldom irks
us, if one is suffering, as long as one acts in accordance. such becomes
frustration, while making our candy, as to realize, you knew I was misery. it
couldn’t escape you, or something was mistaken, while we knew our secrets. I
leave behind such feelings. I stress conscienceness. in a world quite angered
by mirrors. grandparents are musing. they move with currents. it becomes
difficult to read. but thoughts are blooming or shrubberies are designed while
all things desire further pruning. the lakes are with algae. the atmosphere is
with humidity. and the soul is with existential purgatory.
