I
reign so absently, such reaching conviction, but something is silence: by
picture to adore or salient spirits as fire would envelope our shepherd. a
mirror seeming nice a feeling so connected or a daughter we develop. mother
might cringe. a father might color apples. if more to destiny its unveiling.
what have we become? whom would it be, such radiant accessories, by mental
assortments? so un-jarred if music is therapy while it doesn’t require much. a
man at a pond. a nervous duckling. while he sat, they gathered around him.
surrender in time, for it must avail, while it hurts like wires. by determined
winds, at deeper wrongs, while we wonder why mother is teary. I fell asleep,
roaming alley-caves, as to pause where nature is acute. such popular kitsch,
but days prevail, a man must understand his failures. but Love is a shadow so
psychoanalytic or a pure behaviorist; indeed, such a pure fraction or pure
fiction for nothing is pure titanium. what is a threshold? it determines intensity,
or demarcation, or elasticity. it becomes pivotal, upon an axis of turmoil,
where one might justify an application. but Love is sainted, such a sinner,
while humans must strive for perfection; as to reach, but never to become,
while uneasy for it seems like failings. by galloping cascades or upstream
emotion so neatly televised. those steadfast weeds so alive in screams while
wrestling come daylight damages; so faithful, so disavowed, while chasing chaos
such distaste. our opposite attractions such wheezing flames where a man boils
in passion. by unfair femininity such
was an appetite where centipedes trail in Kansas. if sought it was seen or sudden
a patch of dirt road. a book about physiognomy a memory maladjusted or pigeons
at feeding. by nests or nets or
notions of eternity: such brave adventurers to have lived its dream even if it
turns sullen. by a mind
radiating temblor so affixed to one excitement. but a pessimist this dear hermit this
unlikely prince: or precious environment our disillusioned realities so soft
upon an existential blanket. but when
I look by heart, I see a symphony, I hear an opera. such as a voiceprint or a hologram while
stressing over blueprints: those indistinct elements or distinct properties to
ask Love if she might dance. but evermore a cynic or a fantast while at times I
wonder about our journey: those rehearsed automations, or actions seeming attentive,
while fleeing a bit from something natural: our late years while tasting pains
to glance over where life is beautiful.
