Wednesday, June 10, 2020

7up Satchels


I was virgin oil or raw soil a gift in your space. it was famished or fractured or cursed. we played checkers sensing my deficit while more estranged than levitated. those holes in me those drillings in you while the pulsation is control: such ruby glass or fiber windows so tragic where a soul might fumble: the constant assailing those blue scars while becoming another person. so dismissed where presence is aggravation, either perform or vanish. well, I can’t perform, nor audition, without a script. the tan guilt by love or anger by sorrow at roads appearing blurry. it was by rhythm or alarm while it wasn’t innocent; thus, a motive, a silver line, a wretched web. such intimacy so crooked so lively. the baby was born. the souls were sought. it looks like frustration: the cyan pavement or the dying man where life would unsettle itself.
            it was confusing to meet multiple characters or to be expected to fit pockets. it seemed centered or distinct where one must guess how to behave. such guessing is labyrinth or skewed, for each response comes with shackles: no one is normal, it’s long beyond such options, while we now define the pathology. (I find a truth, wherein, is fact, to first dismiss as unfit determines every interaction: no one is void, it kills us all, while the Faculty determines a pathology in itself, for the rule is designed to discover anomalies, while omitting self, self finds uncemented fractures.)
            if fortunate, we discover self in our mistakes, or we’re conditioned to avoid the same error, while other blunders are awaiting us. such ants or feathers as they tickle or bite in such an irritating fashion. we’ve seen our version, sore into darkness, we might learn different approaches. (it is unclear in sanity that space we seek while something must feel normal: it’s a curse, too, by cultural consensus, while behaviors change determined by heritage: but this is our paradigm our music our vulnerability; as to realize a deep essence in the valley of identities, none of us can outwit everybody, for there is always one more familiar!)

PS.

    The strength to withstand the winds; a spell as it effects/affects some creature. A sudden moment filled with absolute certainty, so wro...