a
soft tempo a rough life while getting better. such graves in you so pathetic in
you while we desire confirmation. brilliant tan flesh or brimming blue eyes at
some topical insecurity. by soul to freeway as racing faster if but those
tragic cures; romancing lies or so suffused where a person craves existence. if
to die in you if to have total dominion while such might ruin perfection: our cynical
habits our settee moments so pleated by deliverance. but a cursed man but an endless
estuary or so much deception it’s death not to beg; as truth has emphases but
truth is unclear while we learn firsthand pain. the table is moaning, for
consensus has errors, where affairs of a heart take precedence. she was first a
customer, we joined by rehab, we couldn’t let go. such commiseration, such
strained effusion, where a parakeet mimics without affection. our gray dungeon
so sweet by groaning brains, where passion is ever by estimation. so, filter a
man, exhaust his limits, make it hell to walk forward. such determined pain, so
much avalanche hurting, where such relief might if I endure: by skyfall by
sky-scrapes by fractions of a man I must become; but it shouldn’t blur it mustn’t
ache while I live by mythos: righteous or pure or present such rain
while all is fabricated: those weak resisters those reciprocal tensions at such
perfected degradation.
