I
drink voltage or a palm of pills after a stiff frantic feeling. if to exist passed
nine the freedom of pain the chest stigmata. a lost daughter a feudal machine
such math, magic or deaths—those blues as blazing where mother desecrates her
mirror: dusty countenance dingy dirty or a freezer seemingly warm. by substance
to reflect while a man has a problem: such a need in controlling chaos such
emotional poverty so much alienation. I’ve met many at cryptic chains so gutted
too floored as fevers running ramped through cities. a father’s mop a mother’s
slime such serenity in knowing no one fits.
such devastation so defeated at
assumptions or fated gates where a monster just addressed me. the friend of the
cornerman the clown of the fury while one would provoke merely for discovery. a
book bleeding a nation indifferent while we give grain to hungry gatherers.
assailed by justice while something is wrong so justified based in uncertainty.
as promoting premises or deduction versus induction with little to no respect
for objectivity. so many pieces such patience where a lost crown feels
unsteady; the man in his mirror the trespasser on his lawn or the father as
never a need to turn further.
beige
grass or
bleeding
glass so much by pre-existence
to
breathe feeling asinine an
environment
sold to neglect.
I’ve
been sober where I analyze peculiar weather in noticing a strict combat; to
speak it like winning it, humans are quite complicated.
I
can’t imagine what life carries the fame in misery the gut as ruined or
realizing it isn’t a home in there: it’s shocked or metallic or suffering or reasoning:
so
many excuses for her face;
so
much gorgeous hell; where angst, anxiety, or patches
of
abused prayers taste like ghetto.
I
met a person while we lied it felt so familiar. I laughed or gathered while
looking at lotus cries; the beasts in there the frantic fever in feral bombast
in there.
such
sweltering palaver or something mechanical while existence parades mannequins:
by fire to adore or revalue as a man giggles at static rules for humans:
he
might if it works;
she
will if it seems a gift;
or
a kid looking where something inside is crumbling.
the
soul in you those febrile gauges in you as to arrive by such a shortage in you.
or so eloquent so pained so much more than a point. so many pages in a ten-minute
discourse, while we must also recalculate each tone. by fierce musicality or a
mind-meter at passion, placation, plus, pride. a woman to her mirror, a man to
his Benz, or an image to its make-belief. a touch by a stranger in a book by a
phantom so many years in academia:
so
great the phantasmagoria
so
demented the sane orator
or
so crazed we are over race.
