the world by upheaval to see our citizens
to feel our lives. like years at the sawmill or linguine over sarcasm at
something unbelievable. it has felt better or appeared like a fantastic façade where
the child plays by a tambourine.
the fierce disapproval as it dislodges or
much presidential dogma. so strong at seconds so weak at moments while agitation
becomes satisfaction.
those ricotta eyes the thick fences while
souls are asking palms: have you lived? are colors different those liturgies?
what is cosmic direction?
we
visualize utopias or systems are boisterous while we do fine in small circles. to
measure software to feel eyes drip
where dire desert destruction. alligator
aggravations such fated gates while hate has become beauty.
sore economic schisms while so far-between
we seem agitated: the future in you; my soon countenance; to have rewired parts
of my inner computer. by teary frustration, where nothing quite changes, in
such flippancy.
mental
industries or anger as a go-to emotion, while training something imperfect. we
need fawning, else, a fierce angel, while moods are rectangular. so departed or
so chastised while reality is so unstable. to adore my passivity to even grow
weary while dear humility is a mirror.
I was closer to infusion
or deeper qualities where angels seem to
make an appearance: our audience our grandeur our scholars torn by scientific mythos.
such heart-physics where passion was neat or believability was agile: the mind-camera,
or its goal, or a person that will never fit into the capacity of happiness:
not as an insult, but too much agency, so drowned by a signature.
