garbage
bags. a trash can. a revelation! it
hit by scar to open bars while claiming love. by unchartered caves or Los
Angeles violence where a soul is uncertain.
to live out disturbance to greet chaos while trauma is ever a
remixture. that interior feeling so
close such deceptive appetites; uncured or moving longitude while fretting
comfort; so close to gravel or so ocean by tears where one is centerpiece. such mystic reasoning as it means so much
while most aren’t willingness: those absent twilights or a bag of laundry where
one is skilled at evasiveness: our prevarication our closets while one would
give last rites; in a desperate effort, if but yesterday’s gaze, or tomorrow’s
forgiveness. so much in you so craved
as silent where hell seems our attraction—those purple birds those waking
seconds so secure by uneasiness: to create an environment to do it
intentionally where one films behavior: by curse or inheritance by pain or
passion while touching reminds one of self-hatred: so elated such an escape as
returning to self, plain disgusted; for recollection is hectic or dominoes are
tumbling while colors are oblivious—to son or daughter or harbinger as reversed
and sighted in pure non-persistence; to label his endeavor to demean his anger
for in truth, we prefer feeling perfected.
