Fate Stands Aloof

I turn music coffin where reality is un-sketched, I feel un-winged. it distresses while peering closer, you would allow me those cries. a sour lemon or a bit of sugar where mother bought a pumpkin. something is obvious, we bend to achieve, if but stability or phantasmagoria. I was a king those screams, unvetted or curdling, while some things are significant. I can’t shake self, or pieces given to eras, where basics haunt the unnurtured memory. it would be righteous for some or uncivilized for others while taking many to an old space. I haven’t felt those feelings, but I am willing to learn. such gloomy incentives or waters falling near creeks where the canyon is dark. so many seams or hems while laundry has been left but attended. it couldn’t be essence this life with years insomuch as such accumulation; as a dovetail flaps wildly or an alley cat meows in such murky spaces. to need laughter where unreality it might falsify its conception; so glazed over or watching tensions while given something it seems selfish. but a soul is unseen a mind often protects by projections where a few attempt to see too closely: the smelted gold or unfamiliar emotions or metal for higher-up fences. such sharp images or imaginary hopes while putting so much on miracles. I couldn’t find the old one, even while dying something felt deceived, insomuch as we feel detached from our agendas. such math these weeks such dangerous assumptions while specializing at sulking.     

 

Rationality Becomes A Rescue Mission

so redressed such leather boots or steel toes. by preparation by damages or by flurry. too alive to die or too dead to live while this becomes existence. by shadow or dungeon or so tender it never registered. such hyper-madness such underbrush while endlessness is not an option. so vulnerable to properties or threaded loquaciously while defending Africa or Europe might not appeal; burgundy carpets or all red-brown horizons so grim in thoughts. it was years at it before so pessimistic as wondering what it accounts for; dark dreary alleys or walls with graffiti while candles burn on some obscure corner. it becomes vagueness or self-centered fire while equality becomes a travesty; by needs to shun by graves to arise where we wonder why Trump is so vicious. our ties our images our futures; as creatures underlying humanity in such a manner it slowly unthreads. it was once easy, for Love might be adored, or to love according to deeper gleaning; to find similarities, in a unique village, but behaviors are indicative of trainings. so much a travesty or too much beauty, as finding it was mental to fail. so often a certain way. where roses are with fragrance. but asphalt comes out of knitting gracefully. It breeds something offensive embodied in something appealing while no one person seals our skies. to sit is furry or beauty or learning not to ask too many details. it’s intricate it is. we must have silence to have long life. where riches determine something different: our irregular approaches, our fierce demands, our rebel hearts. it’s windy those gusts are storming we sit upon a tornado—wilderness is marvelous or straying is exciting while souls are cut through sore remorseful; by allergies where seeking meaning to reap harvests; so afflicted by you so at war with you while we play a delicate violin; such torture in velvet such hot sizzling lingerie why a picture hits hard to its brains. such deadly images while perception must be protected where rationality must be guarded.     

   

Tigers Roam City Winds

breezy wilderness so unstoppable, nevertheless agony; blue-silver lungs or dreams re-shadowed while a person might lose by negligence; soft poodle paws or tender longing eyes where something would ask a question: “Are you with joy?”

I seem negative in this, those skies screaming, but happiness seems temporary. it becomes familiarity, or humans are unsteady, like apes after cloudberries; such arctic doorjambs or soothing sorrows while one might know uneasiness.

but hazy existence our careers our cars our spouses our friends.     I would desire love or be afraid of essence such beige-brown palm prints. if to seize existence or to unriddle mazes where one sheds his grave; to see light or adore our sun without forcing it into atmospheres; to grow content or wrangle with identity if but to live life; for music sung must be estranged or arranged in such a sense it hits a deeper chakra. so many hedges so many rhinoceros a person might watch, feed or trim diligently. by hunter instincts or sophistication, where it necessitates more interests; while each word is a planet or each person an ocean where, nonetheless, an embodied creature.

I was indelicate while I felt unstudied where we possess similar instincts. those warthogs by muddy revelry so calibrated. our wonder our indifference while pain is physical temperament. torturous bites as we negotiate interior if to function where it hurts. such dread of clarity or a need for some compass while thirsty for domination.

it was never imagined our inner Blake where outwardly we deny feelings. such controlled outbursts in a dungeon-promise while some are too excellent to see others. by orca brains as filled by intuition those reefs analyzing silence. or bull ants treading into cities where notion becomes aggravation.   

Horizon: Both Promise & Machete

some might disappear where others mystify while others are estranged. by gravel wars so dug into pavement a man carrying earth. (so much sacrificed such lakes scurrying or rich resentments.) someone hears your peril or discusses their own such contention to out-misery life. morning came with decisions, it flows that way, where two sit in their waters; by courage to love, by uneasy vulnerability, made available by emotion; to listen where pain is raw or to exist in a given moment where one might be revealed or might see some part of self, needing some essence of another person. it was indifference to carry through carnage or resistance to insides while a man now hears dreams; so much you have been, or so little we have not shared, while it’s difficult to address our skies; so much my family so much my aches where it unravels a dying machine. it was never for chance as two would build by tiers into unconditional interior. so much to unlatch so warm into sunrise as soaring by firebirds. so much his future as to discover more discomfort while looking at pain waiting to attach to Love. such fallen frames where angst is anger while one must continue to exist. to have embraced love, such to define love, it becomes impossible to forget love. such sunbirds as resting hearts while one is working by machination; to stir into lights where miserable dusty winds as sought despising freedom. life speaks of love life censors anti-love but most of life can’t define fullness. to live in souls to beat as moonlight where knowing Love is solace enough.      

                   

Sidewalk Saxophone

so abased as coarse the river such beauty so horrific. the swamps made home the tiny mayfly such mud so unclean. to reckon forethought where it looms by absence while precious might be one more travesty. so cursed into bleeding such stored adrenaline—at run-paths cutting curves where welted, vexed, seeking freedom. those lies meant nothing at minds with pathology such math but it’s too late for algebra. we dine embarrassment we live with abrasions so gifted so raw so isolated—if but white porcelain or ebony vanilla at sharks or whales carrying an octopus. too much to vanish too little to return or too righteous to retreat; as hated his guts but it meant so little, while it grows to insist so boldly. versicolor habits or wrecking ball delusions while most move too quickly to make decisions. more to forethought this maze of maladies where most are inaccurate. such sensuous lies such dear deliberateness insomuch souls are deluded for years. (would you have me, in that space, where I always look askew? would you love me, exactly like that, where I couldn’t breathe? or would you risk humanity in one rush to just pour out every detestable ribbon?) a person realizes something, in this rinsing abandonment, we learn that our lives are fragile; it comes by a glance, but it was oh so my imagination, to have treasured another above common resources. it seems too unsteady, too ready, where one is at disbelief.     by griot history or satire redemption to put life in the infights; silver concrete or basement candles, it has become pure fire; our investments or determination while creating screams. if but to live its lamp if but to sustain its lance while dying in you seems adolescent: the chained gates those graph-paths or sidewalk receding into mind-caves. so dependent so disturbed while liking is a hassle, a hurdle, some type of hurting. unmoved resistance or organic fireflies while loving seems incredibly human.    

Life Is Depending On Us

infights by self those hearers those deliriums. soft baked insanity to have those whispers to regroup as unfit. such sodium to partake or riddle in surprises while spirit has a straightjacket. as hijacked creatures too close to adore while afar one by sketches. to love more as unfelt or unseen while so near I could hate you. (I run a risk in days flapping where self becomes projectiles; for you might be anomaly some unverified winner some summer-history; while bondage is normal or freedom is askew where we promote addiction as innate habit. those dreaded miracles for one might unclamp or need assistance.)     such dear allegiance     or tribal obedience     while asserting some chemical; to read a person or dislike 3 out 5 traits where loving is out of its zone.     curious flowers they watch as we pass the garden while I always ask an inquiry: indeed, creativity is challenged; blacks can’t utilize too many words; thus, art has boundaries or cultural fences.     (I may incline to listen, but it’s unlikely, where education is an unsteady conversation; for we feel a certain way, to possess is to speak emphatically, as not to possess is to speak by hesitance: one reasons in mind, or acts in general, where sex has nothing to do with education.)     —such envy for animals they have sung in symphony they are asymmetrical ink: so cherished by poesy so adored by humans such richer paining existence; but to feel alive to have such depth where arts have soared unto breaking skies; those shards fall they scrape earth while two are thrown in jealous revelries; such chaste sinners, such religious virgins, or fire melding into tension—

those days in sewn pain those freedoms as exhausted where a person pops up showing deeper concern: our categories, or prerequisites, where many are not alive!

Beautiful Nightmare

such fire by souls so enveloped such a compass to feel joy by rain—much ecstatic beauty too aesthetic for memories such to need its essence. so zealot or such zippers, but a master of illusions; as developed strangers so intimate its force where flame is mountain: by dilemma or tragedy to hang so zeroed of such a best-friend. may daughters know such aloofness. or may sons aggravate by giant un-affection. so dear or unavailable by human interests—to be made of ashes to pierce glass while scars have become signposts: those vines or branches or mud coloring by compass—so many words such delicate lies while an entire life has been given to deception. so made of wood such fiery angels while a pen would choke if it knew its deliveries. to promise one last dream or to accrue three different hopes where so many war for coverage. (I speak of jubilant depression such paradox where a man dies while falling enlove): by curse of golden calves or winds in caves at concentrate citrus: our souls such complications or so moved by a glance as decided to renew reception; sure affection or sore reflection as pure dejection. those drastic aches if but one last climax or organic foreverness—as beige skies or turquoise deserts while adoring us is poured into one source: such desolate devastation such mathematical magic where anxiety becomes atmosphere; to die such living to arrive while late at luxury to possess an attitude. those cedar trees those cypress mice or any interior ocelot. if but to vex a vacuum or to enter into another’s vortex where before was sweet melody. such years with fire such destruction while building where something is so on point it becomes burdensome. refurbished by molten existence or smelt by mental silence as affixed to rhythmic ontology; such nausea if melting where beauty becomes a small infant—those orange skies those auroras terrors so resplendent into a nightmare.     

Sea Wings

take it from karma into dynasties while life is essence; but surface as circumcised if but linguini while a heart unmarks the face. smelling like kneading or sounding like oceans so bound by beauty—such earth unveiling or minds struggling assigned so heinous connections—those hours at glasses such homes rebuilt where adoring became pure affliction. fennel ropes or jute passion where valleys merge into curvatures; by glance to double-take where it erupts such flesh into memories—those backend frustrations those moon aches into bound by knees; bluebird dreams or emerald bunnies while it isn’t clandestine—sheer agony or mere muscle where actions are indicators.

but a floret but a curse but music a daughter as an image; those firing eyes this firing gut in such a London apartment. so much to mercy where it might get old or it’s too much to decipher; such secerns where a mind is livid while comfort would die like essence. the gall of a man or terse agendas where something is seeming inordinate.

such sable-saffron tears by tasmanian structure to love or care while it all feels similar. a nearby graveyard as it yearns for more than the fleeting sensuality; but feathers are bloody, the sun has exploded while humans are incandescent. such lovebirds as created souls while one would converse with flowers; as never an inclination as ever a rule, while we teach kids never to forgive; indeed, for something close it becomes our addict magic where it must appeal to egos: a broken sea a tasty violin or literacy as a dependent variable.     

Prominent Characteristics

it begins with oddities, some obscure behavior, often dressed by verbal violence. it has strange ideas. it loses universal scruples. it often feels ambivalent.     the child is vigil, something first innocent becomes hypervigilant. the mind is unstitched. abnormalities become normalities. but we need to feel normal, we need emotional stimulation, by which, we grow apologetic.     experience over books. or experience adorned by books. or specifically, a book by consensus.     it becomes irritated, or attitudinal, or desolately low fighting moods. it’s under rugs or alive with verve or it’s a lover flying into measurements. by frame it’s analyzed by gut it’s manipulative while requiring high levels of feelings—those necessary by intuition as to become servants or reap certain negative reinforcers.     it will train for benefit those souls susceptible where it’s quite well versed: to maneuver by instinct, to fret pulling skies, or an outburst knitted to conquer doubt. so laxed at nothing so versatile according to needs while conviction centers on self.     maybe you love her while she can’t realize love as accustomed to being mistreated—for pain or travesties have trained behavior.     so pained in there. such dependent realism. while I have learned improper reasoning is endorsed by friends.     one is a genius some abstract appetite where another is pure street-phantom. but something becomes itself. in such as we witness indicative patterns. where most intellectuals hate this assertion.     it classifies one pot as representing all pots but we see some pots take on different shapes. we see that some are experts gliding upon wings while others are aside a sewer with a pint of scotch.     so, to classify one with others, is to a great degree, an unjust undertaking.     we instead pair behaviors or ranks or education or strength or intention; for training accounts for measures, or orientation speaks to motive, or better, raised in it, surviving it, or being of a certain disposition, these account for our social colleges.     so discolored so demanding while often disappointed.     or we understand classes. we pair them together. while class interaction, proves catastrophic. but how to ensure affectation or alignment if but to prevent a person from having an outburst; for personalities reach across cities, where one might not be equipped, he might become overwhelmed—while some might enjoy his caprice.     kids watch or laugh or are oriented until it becomes painful. so, many harbor guilt, they see evidence, they decline to engage trauma. but one knew it, where she died horribly, he was left with years that become personality. a slight indifference while fire churns, or a calmness with bells, or a strength hindering new links; to assess by instinct, to imagine humanity, or better, to want goodness while badness has become prominent.  

If It Wasn’t An Issue, It Wouldn’t Be Voiced

the phoenix shall burn while looking into skies as to rise so filled with fire; such dream-defenders or vision-keepers those gates so high in Zion; our fight our abolition our terrible/terrifying pain; if but to let it go so hard a challenge if but those screams answered by solutions. to assert your life as maniacs for contending while nothing has value until illustrated. such freedom in darkness the cut seeping into soil while tillage is beauty or death or radical/political cages. I would love before it was heaven’s angst such interior ventriloquist those eyes maneuvering by mantle or forests if but to forget it was brutal hell those decades. if so different if so sewer—why have so many forfeited their skin? our organizing flames our Davis memoirs our famous debates: to discover something rigid this hatred for intelligence while some blacks contradict the axioms of oppression. but the sun suffocates adamance or illumination is often challenged while breath is not necessarily appreciated; it seems so simple, a soul has a dream, while many wonder why it’s so important? some are hard to blood segregationists—where they would preserve color & save us the dear alienation; whereas, others are integrationists, this portrait embracing an underlying commonality. so different in souls such hierarchy while many need power: it sustains a feeling it rises into demagogues or it gives a person a reason to live. thus, activists are shunned or protesters are beat into goodness while most need something to destroy. we remember 1865, instead of B.C., where weather was crisp, nature was life, as tribes became structures in their own environment. so much to live for, every step must be calculated, while they are meant to tug or pull you astray.   

We Covet Unsteady Houses

I glaze outward into the crucial wilderness our cities painted in ambiguity. such raw portraitures into such social powers insomuch as rooting for harmony; this beige creature those pained limbs while sorrow is an entity; so estranged at times where he would demand of others what he doesn’t enforce for self. I dislike his presence. I see duplicity, anger, wither does it effervesce? such beauty is one unleashed while collecting sharkskin those blind devotions to say I ever loved you where subtle into a sky such a need to care. so many weapons as to ignore signs to imagine we don’t know what you’re made of: such indecency, surefire deceit, while too many people are acceptance. it must be confronted while begging questions where some are asserting, “It does not follow!”

I’m deep assessment or something strange where loving you seems such a nightmare: churned first quarter, betrayed from day one, while so invested pleading with indifference. the salmon pause, the bears are reluctant, the cheetah sits in dust breathing in the Savannah. such rebels with loyalties or such trustworthy thieves or better an addict behaving according to deliberateness; so into a myth so cursed while her body is too awesome to renege—where Love was dishonest or Love just had passion while a man can’t resist his interior thermometer: dreams like you, deaths unlike science, or films in brains so glorious.

I give up. those mental structures those tiers those dreaded probabilities.  

Damn Curse!

the backend at travesty our historical veins—to die like movement to love like panthers or affected like tigers—such felt freedom those adolescent tears where it was beauty or deaths. milk dripping a new land crying while the lullaby was screaming; such white literature such rich humans as accursed by our habits—those men running the fields burning while blacks watched a city turn; as regifted or restructured while saxophones ablaze like candy to a shark. 4 minutes or 5 seconds or Hemingway—our minds held by ransom our kids struggle frustration or our mothers fretted like damn this gut! so mean granny so hectic grandpa while I know too many damn secrets; like a tinge to metal like a dent in steel or morning skies as gods might speak. 28 years so filled with bars to slap a face or beg your pardon! those sample goals or midnight strangers while tripping for disgusted where airwaves spoke clemencies. at Tibet them days at a woman those feathers while nothing is beauty like her body. a man gutted the river drained where he held a tadpole. such a frog such as dying a man colors his miseries. honey tasting sweetly or nectar pure vinegar where is was substance those high evils; so, no more me, or no more you, because it can’t be carried! those darts those boards while a woman was so destructive: as plotted demise, as enjoyed demise, where she reads to laugh at demise. but rebels play gin a deck of cards or dominoes until 3 in its mourning! such a crime in us such a death feeling good so warm so abased so dearly a damn curse.    

Filled With Foxes

(by limits or screams or dungeons!)

so many cookies at life so much software or a pouty/verbal disjunct. by cufflinks to wrists this portal where most aim for avant-garde. so tender to watch such a curse to own while years have swallowed candescence. to gaze upon sharkskin or to trek through snakeskins while so sudden to wrestle a dinosaur. (I have an issue, it stems from us, where a person is oblivious to actions; but a humbling cuisine or a streetwise struggle while fitting in is paramount. such inexact pain, such indeterminate sources, where we discover a different page.) such squiggly lines or odd shapes by ruthless happenstances. if terrified we respond with fear. if ecstasy we alter our discourse. while I never felt so much weight. (she must be unspoiled, for I need her dreams, I ache for her motivation; to have invested the carnival to have removed humor or clowns in an attempt to court Xanadu; such ruins while we murder those doves or ask concerning calamity.) in rich madness we meet weasels while we become bull sharks—as history repeats where most are livid, for America is designed to conquer souls; such steep control such indifferent attacks insomuch as, “I can’t accept your serenity.” by dilated pupils by hyena instincts or sensing one made inescapable! such a panda woman by metamorphous to censor but too many years those hikes—the tawny jasmine anxieties or dependent loyalties where variation ruins its undercurrent. so dear to cleansings such proverbial deceit or a man caged by his ideals—linking into public life or losing sanity where calmness is a marvelous adversary; those deer grazing the gazelle is vigil while a patient is a participant.

what happens with deep resistance     where the lone dog is outrageous     or the leopard is devastation?     what happens when one loses his understanding?  

Pain Is Bigger Than Its Victim

the cursive so flat so anti-cartoons—I need more than its sutures. or polyrhythmic anxieties or corners so engulfed while a woman was held captive. such kenisic arguments or a volt for homage at terrible failings; to dig for acceptance or one so deep where yet so shallow—those hurting sandbags or the toddler’s sandcastle while skies are so indifferent—or so impassionate while perception cries where the handshake is with existence: so quiet those screams so loud such silence where scars became essence or shadows or his dark countenance; polyester suits or flashy berets while minds are finding such comes to an end. the cursive walls those cursive ceilings as doors are slamming ever shut where tomorrow is another conception. our pain says opposites it never tells crystals where a woman might speak in topaz cursive. the shelter laughing the sweat screaming or a big face maddened or looking for redemption. to wander spaces such sartorial sentences where mother wouldn’t understand: the lone wolf those carnivals while everything becomes tolerable. we need more than sutras or scriptures or psychology—or psychiatry as it bleeds guts or awakens something resting while therapy is dormant—those lakes those shores as tigers roam islands; if but to arrest every memory or to cure in one session while its intolerable to fathom why I must remember: it causes anger it distresses it induces loneliness—such deceased wilderness such ashes smoked the crux has been given to its past; where streetlights are watching or mother is dying such ruminating hostility where one would empathize or suggest while one is too disillusioned; to find meaning in something taboo, to need full on acceptance, while society is turning a shoulder to one’s blight. so awakened to this. but it isn’t my responsibility. it resides with family or friends. or some cedarchest cardigan some relic in souls but pain is bigger than its victim.      

We Mildew Homes

it dies those crumbles at life or tangled by webs or thighs or buttocks—accused of slavery to something goodness while something is erasing—to relive or dig science at an act it was beautiful!

mother sits there she cries anger where addiction is made normality. so afar from me or so dear to me while freedom seems imaginary. indeed, several degrees or pedigree freedom while it could get worse.

such ideals or white eyes while we conjure some malady—for Love is mischief it meant so little while angst was delirious.

pure gorgeous ocelots or wild acting bobcats where it was asserted a dear affinity. or Love looking silent where it couldn’t be but closeness while we never understand our hearts' extensions.

so poly-amorous so cute in silk such casual lingerie;

                                                                                    while eating wood or running faster where Love was ebony by summer.

I would mental ropes while a true trapeze or a mage so close it unravels: such fierce deception such radical appreciation or a few women too internal to war wrongly. its essence, something seeping, where a mind has become its manic inspectors—those leaves so deciduous after taller grass those rebukes!

at larger nostrils or golden sunshine where daughters are caged by excellence: those furious feelings those fragmented elements or genesis suffering genius aberration. but Love so simple such a creature of deliberateness where I opt out for it doesn’t fit. such goose-grass such sugarcane so intense or such a nightmare to maintain. those mystic cheetahs or magical/symbolic lions while a lioness unchained his misery; such as to suffocate while insoluble where aftermath was insufferable—those tarsier approaches or jerboa innocence while afterwards a man became something incomplete: those men at masteries or silent voices while we know we admire stability—as so unstable where nothing is guaranteed, despite, behavioral obedience, while something unsure gives more life than illness-illusion. such father of mother or mother of father, where kids know by great ignorance; as mandarin juice or mandolin cries, while home is too damn far. 

Debate Rightness With Few Certainties

due power of souls by eeriness of feelings at hills debating worship. such human estimates or vanguard warriors or winds ruffling leaves. to have emotion or to relocate sewn intensity of a first love. so abandoned to experience, so open-minded, while resisting by jaded inclination. such noor to flourish, where one might ask, “How is it by divine light?” our beliefs challenged, our certainties reduced to absurdities, where one sees thin wires while juggling sharp whispers. to have nothing, they left us there, & offered doubt for comfort. “I’d rather us into my dragon than freedom for the masses!” by isms we debate. by beliefs we see seams. or by emptiness we think unclearly.     I imagine one sitting stiffly, a bit angered or disgusted, for one is filled by simplicity—such exuding happiness: the need for love the firebrand of romance where most are outdoing the last session: it has little meaning, it feels a little dirty, or this is normality.     some are with values or determined as to desire aesthetic juvenation: we dine on something, but is parade different, where appeal is determined by one’s course: so, one might enjoy more those distant mountains where we assert emotion/feeling/or a sense of the sacred is far more rapturous; but something is ignored, where experience becomes futuristic behaviors, many are too established to feel giddy. it becomes a message desired as maturity while others need hearts to ripple/vibrate/or undress doubt.     the winds are psithurism such noor in unbathed woods as a poet might ignite a moment to die. so numb these years or longing for an old self where it wasn’t pure suspicion. but adult passion or sheer rehearsal or married young enough to dance with joy. such forelsket by fire or undressed foreskins by covenant at some new home undergoing kenopsia.      the cobras are circling into cities abandoned where most must trail its blazing sun.      so edited such a few plugs while I dearly felt something: the snake’s-medicine, the venom’s-beauty, where even monsters have their sincerities.             

Hems Or Shoulders

the dark apple those murky cherries at some appointment. our cautious observation. I hit a button. I get to see mother. oh it hurts it cries it’s astronomical. the galaxy is filled with addicts or pimps or monsters. to bleed by daughters to hate self or to culture so well he appears coldness. the frigid vacuum or those warm days while Love eats chocolate those five depressions. such chemical such flights where we apologize, break silence, or more tolerance. I have a ghost it plays violin it destroys comfort-zones. I hear an echo I disappear I return in traffic. the battle is ritualized. so many courtships. they become unwelcomed auras.     there’s a tattoo inside it stitches into spirit where a man might ask a scientist for its mirror.     I must relax or re-channel or walk a long journey—the road inside-out the downcast so tense it gives elegy. if but so close if but to realize goodness where a man sees pessimisms—or lights so dim gnomes are chasing liberty.     I would call it by love. it seemed so incredible. while many just open their hearts.     our countenances our glitter or so orgasmic everything looks academic. at childlike passages or sensitive to resistance where even life is up for dismissal.     I have loved from afar. I have scarred a scream. where lungs have become shadows.     (you might run where woods are darkness or you might sit in depressions; you might curvature a dainty valley, or feel too strong to sustain it, while many are dependent upon something you can’t give. indeed, you might feel invincible or semi-crazy, while needing a father is clouded by pure rage. but seek solace, be smart, do not destroy innocence, for once it disappears, it becomes something impossible to regain.)     I was infatuated but it happened in an instance where it ran amuck. this is existence. it happens in a second. where we become proud or sullen.

by hems or shoulders if but something extra-spatial; or at terror to love at fast moving days while nights are lonely at cabinets.     I listen to auras such pain in music while Truth is a Beautiful Thing.     “It’s overrated. It’s too miserable. I can’t endorse it.”    but havens crumble or church has a serpent where countenances only reflect a portion of our lies!         

Neurotransmitters, Plus, Experience

I want more luxuries or tight leather so curious so deadly where it couldn’t be humans. Love has cries so sassy so caught while dying was specialty. to reappear in something gentle or those days while he dropped ecstasy. the brains blown the avenues bare after angst in something rich—those legs they passion those hips felt panic while a man is uncontained—the beast the animal as built to blaze laughter. so night those windows such pagan agony while it was a clean differential: those Laws those ways at graves but too immaculate—so tired of screaming such, or longing into oceans, for Love is determined. as lost his river such candent hopes so lambent where sacrifice is a face- dog—the ghost as he appears so zeroed into conniptions. if but beauty to arise at ethics but our compass is athirst for anything bringing bliss. so rough so edgy such a curse—but Love is anger or Love is action so raw so dangerous while a man needs something those hypes! so angular or perpendicular at avenues such illuminati. it would escape it would laugh where Love was alert—for the face-dog the ghost was livid; such manic memories so patient to lose while sudden to win; but nothing could live or everything would cringe while candles bathed his guts.

too sexy too feminine plus Love would ache the heart-culture. so restless such turning to toss up a cigar. the effigy rebuilt the edifice still grieving or the epithet uncivilized. indeed, it must with pain, or it giggles by discomfort or it’s a text from Korea. such aeipathy such convergence while driving back to the bishop. as crazy hearts so sparked where humans yearn for excitement—to die again to awaken again to feel like twenty-two again: those butterflies the hot or wild sessions if but to adore like neurotransmitters.     

COVID-19 Has Paused Existence

take it from the gut those ruts a truck on his shoulders. I sense you but gravity is elusive while a soul might fall. those eyes those hips at terror reaping a black essence; to know we die to feel indifference where identity is temperamental. at Irene while sullen, at Tiffany while appraised or Asia while fretting some loss. people dying as accused for suicide where one would enter a Texas Gala. so alert so much in Spain while a lady smiled, touched an arm, while speaking Spanish. such honorable deaths such a hasty second, as just needing to break boredom. such opalescence so threshed by dungeons with a rough countenance. too aloof too angered while so close it happens by sexuality; indeed, something coarse, something emphatic, while escaping self is a miracle: the needs for hands the thirst for rawness or pictured so elated it’s hard to say something sober; the somber fever the chattering sluggishness the moderate flu: our breaths so heavy our eyes so vulnerable in such a second to lose consciousness; the man to his flask the mother to her vat or the doctor to her mind. at Lesbian literature, reading frantically, where it’s different when it hits home. those lies I’ve told those wars I’ve entered or a man passing drugs to his mother—to carry battles to feel like living while a group might despise your innocence. in deeper magic while a person would believe just about any story berating self. it becomes too easy. while so close. but knowing a man endorses your failure. or take it from gut those draperies those women while so much peters out: to have adored the music to have rare enchants while something in us is but deficits.   

Homes Are Unbuilt

it would destroy by parts those eclipsed oceans. so young those diamonds where essence exposed disjuncts.

such restored indifference while to ask Injury, “Why are you so defensive?” by ancient pain the misery of children while it becomes, “He can’t leave me!”

such mesmerization or cirrus screams while souls are aching shadows. the ghosts in us the fire in mother as to witness one refusing to surrender.

by incandescence such holy mastiffs but an inrush of mistaken gunfire; such wiretaps so internal while a dream is a partial confidant.

the skies are depressed our fury is flung into chambers while one sees spiders. such impassivity to become pure passion with damage seeming so intimate: such asphalt debates or hairpin ideals where thoughts are anchors—as berets are symbols or death is delights while too inverted to ever touch freedom.

but father is established the grave is intimate such tombs or wilderness so seated beneath oaken rain: the soft essence those blue majesties at such dear desperation.

don’t joust with emotion. don’t seize the phantom myth. insomuch as a heart angles for the flailed perfection!

if but to exist by fields semi-exulted by self wherewith it becomes sleepy desperation; our altered minds our candy on Halloween or offices opened on Christmas Eve;

such therapeutic insatiability or needing something, its falling concrete by which a false identity becomes lifelong generators.

if but sincere sanctions or southern dedication while a nun might lose Jesus. so false in presumption so beige by assertion where some souls are selected by mothers.

the jaunt to your airs or assumptions come true while I envision such inordinate, indeterminate, or incredulous devastation.

by Love was assassinated or essence alienated to find us in stillness gripped by hara-kiri.  

Cares For An Hourglass

I took for granted these values we voltage so arranged to seek arts; the value of arcs or cursed in muscle such gristle to dive into cherries; soul management such greed while alive an old feeling; to disappear of chalice a vest as such definition     the ultimate battle those rendering fruits as patience was undiscovered; such green lenses or nectar raw while trust was given too freely; the mind as it shivers or ruts as harmony while most feel passion with basics.     I couldn’t rebuke it. it was wired differently. but oh so much to seek it.     those allergies or asthma so Asiatic     into damages or wreckage where I mailed to the churchyard. at subliminal(s) those years too sly to succeed too persistent to die; those years those walls while it hurts to remember extant traumas.

by parts or particles walking or kneeling the garden is unsafe. it kills its essence. it’s low in its chakras. where most watch the falling effigy. if but a song with a key where it becomes a strength. as souls would contend or one is lonely while trampled as such a willow. the rug is thrown out the skies are overthrown such as silence might deliver; too much a gift or too much a phantom where it swoops or swooshes as sudden to reappear.

it might be ecstatic come youth. or it may be intoxication if stable. but most are tired, too sick to combat, or too dissolved to do this one more round. as moving vatic cries or plangent seas where sharks are watching, waiting, or wiggling. so determined, or so driven, where some are dying. so vague so re-valued, or so unvetted!     

Sometimes We Visit Others From Home

the softer touch upon a whisper such tender visitation. we war sorely so afraid of our habits or needing validation; someone to value us or nurture our insecurities or plain speak this chemistry. I wasn’t courted for that. where orangutans share fruit. or lemurs bat eyes. I was so designed for complexities or destined for something lonely; where a person is different, no more to explain, but this is dishonesty.     such resonance or pictured electricity while we remain somber. our first chalice our dear associations or a sudden intoxication; our Marley days sung softly, our religiosity jettisoned, in exchange for essence over hierarchy. but monads or atomic pegs while I can’t see what I assert is there. our deity surrendering(s) or determinists hearts, for participation wouldn’t have permitted such plagues; to nurture instincts so subtle into spaces while fretted for something, it aches!     I don’t see that way, where everything is as designed, but I believe in Christ. this makes me a creature, a nonconformist, an iconoclast, or some confused person, for to partake is to accept the whole entrée, correct?     nay!     I’m eclectic or some thespian where sheer experience means too much!     we run a risk or something grandiose while illness is nothing but! or deeper depression, while one visits, where another has been at it so long. to adore his principle, she might anchor his heart, where chakras are flooded to alter his elevation.     this word comes to me, it lives as an incentive, such meraki from my guts! to need with vengeance to vex like living or to feel so challenged; but life is not a riddle or a casket, it’s a gradual mystery unfolding; it requires patience, discipline, or something so hard to acquire, interior, painful ass honesty!            

Bull Shark Houses

the sakata line the penguin’s cry while warring by empires. so deprived where men die such furious skies—such substance or so detached while Love is preaching agonies. I adore like destruction or someone, so outrageous, so out of pocket, while doing deaths to insure your allegiance. it becomes phobias or black/white attraction where fate skates or plays pianos—the tier at carnivals or remedies too simplistic as accustomed to voltage or energies or total absence; as a man ruffling concrete while atomic in skins where dying seemed marvelous: but a nut-shell but a grimace while Love seduced Zeus: those walks where we lie if but to produce mystic amnesia; to love so diligently to recruit/seduce the camerawoman or so dear, so close, to defining our vulnerabilities; if but to live while running across goose-grass while jasmine skin remains a curse; so many pieces such ruthless branches while the world has identified our Jewish Laws. but tell your story. scream like a maniac. if but to leave an impression. —for pain is lightfast while misery is more wisdom but no one is listening—by roots or mind-weeds so seaboard, so efficacious!

                                                            I stranger my life or so restricted while he lost damn near existence. so cruel to me to imagine submission while sunflowers are angry. those earlobes those chest-reigns while it feels good to boss-out! where doctors are distressed or pains are vocal insomuch as it becomes a dear shame. the primate gibbon or mathematical genetics while we rage over monogamy. such a sore subject. such as we might conquer desires. where two people are working harder than quite reasonable. but I’ll vanish as leaving essence where reality has been bent & winds are noosed.

                                                            such gifts they fret my guts for it isn’t easy where a person fears you might leave. broken dice, hickory makeup, or ebony sin!  

Ignoring But Snagged By Color

we exhausted early such as rebels such flying fury. as defeated agents but it wasn’t viable or it became ridiculous. so early so many passions while it couldn’t be altered. to lose you to love me while residue is hostile. or another, such a maniac well, in order to recline in misery. no one cared or showed interests but Love was proud to assist. our souls, Mother, or intermission, Mother, while America is purgatory for blacks. but those few they comply they speak a certain/familiar/European language. it might be its claim where strength is opposed, so, it must seem liquidity, even pliable. a man with words such a wordsmith while we ignore its depth. or a bit fickle, for they usher in, while loving a noncolored woman might affect us. but Love is caramel or Ethiopian while certain/indicative habits are roaring beyond their shadows. by guarantee as fretting exhaustion where a man sees something too outlandish to ignore. as going into fire, a willing maniac, where a wife forgets the hells he endured. (but nothing becomes what escapes!) or those groups, where fighting is mandatory, as it seems America is anti-hegemony. but never its root, as ever its gut, while it seems something ‘others’ resist. the forest is churning or magic seems creative where Love is sympathizing with something she needs. “I know your bleeding in such a way to need your war but I, too, must cleave to my comforts.” (a man is borne to a boot, his sanity is ever dependent, (where he sees something seeming his opposite); such delicate projections such confirmation if but to feel complete; where watchers are hectic: “She’s now irresistible,” where, before, she was something by expenditure.) indeed, something to fill voids, something familiar, something quite accepting; where a man saw beauty if but to select royalty while most can’t release the meads of passions. where he adores if but a mistake or something seeming planned—insomuch as two need direction but habits, albeit, cruel, become too familiar to unlatch. our homes we fight for; our pains we divorce life for; while America needs naivety.

—for sheer insight is anger or sheer wisdom is absurd where too much knowledge leads to disgusts! —but it feels goodness, or complete blindness, while two ignore founding fathers.     

Needing More Feels Like Guilt!

the song voice so dressed sitting on a dresser—as talking smack or laughing back this thin/fine line. to dance like crazy or as appealing as Helen such a war outside. I love certain aches I cook like grayness so elusive such dying while as wild as wolves; to cover it up or dine in hell while I sit with demons; our conversation our giggles the singsong diamond—at carnivals where gods dwell while it sounds good, it seems perfect, where intuition is screaming to shun it. I do apologize while imperfect a man knowing how to live or graves whistling where tombs were hectic—to stalk through caves to gut my brains or to feed a horse: so majestic so terrible or so moody; the shortcuts the long alleys the club with Jesus; such amazing grace such Malcolm X or Civil Rights alienated—the front door the college life the first damn near murdered. it’s raw or uncivilized something destructive, our lives! but Love is science or bio-existence to swim like dolphins. so much an inner warrior as looking at skies so reserved while walking into another’s habits; such wrenching pelting(s) such dear arrests while cuffed sitting in a den.

I would like a conversation, sometime into escapes while I just made confession. as to rob a man, to erase his God, with nothing in exchange; so, a man dies, his soul to America, as it proves a space for blacks. the armoire verse, those cadenza/credenza voices while cloth is hard at changing moods. or an internal mouse the grazing maniac the lunatic as down as music is friendly. I must mope while Love is close to irritate—such trying such dying so calamitous upon a Friday. it seems superficial it must be profundity where such are searching for a lonely oasis. to deliver his heart to cargo his anger while a whale just spat him out. those nights in vogue, while with everything, where needing more feels like guilt!  

One Last Life

re-cut so short so lost—into a dungeon into a grimace speaking gibberish. Love is exotic so erotic so capturing if but this death! as creatures in woods as dynamite in caves while Asians built rail roads—the man between the ghosts, those features laughing, such a maniacal giggle. a psych a psychologist not a friend—by music bleeding or origami or melic a second for guests so bled out—to die goodness to live wickedness such a breath of fury. I varnish us I plaintiff us while most are judge & jury—where exoneration is ever our mirrors. such to beg for a delicious apple or a woman so much to carry the rain. because pain is aesthetic or robotics while it opens over wines; the actress the maze so much to blaze a firecracker; for beauty would die or misery would live such deeper eyes! it was mudslides or crashing homes, right here in America; those tremors those guts to cut a hooded eye. oh God! you anticipate rhythms while a woman is a treasure if but accepted those terms seeming like glitter. such filth as clean such pollution for monies while if good death might open life. a salary of problems or seeping into Gomez as to resurrect in a different portal: as a man dies so shall he live where many are terrific at devastation; to devour licorice to wash but essence while seated, tripping, looking at an empty glass. so confessed so delirious while the glass is screaming. those lusts goring eyes a lash as a whip or hickory slats; if but to rejuvenate for Love was a ride while wildness attracts the beasts. so unequal so charged where guts would whistle; the difference in bleedings the rage in passion while gripping for deceased one last life!   

New Aged Sonnet

so loud into silence so bent a straight line or crooked with compassion—the life lost as melding in soil a thick purple/mud puddle. so accursed but Love is chandeliers where ceilings are made of diamonds; to adore your face to love your habits while addicted to your odors: such tender breakage or blues on Sunday or a need for such harmful churches. our orientation our treasuries while something said puzzled as entire night. if right I’m good, if hurt I stumble, but Love completes the family! memories like underwear emotions like follicles dear for gods to sense your essence! as bleeding creatures or revolutionaries while Love was too damn adorable—to pass an infraction as granted forgiveness or a child born, after-with, love was never sweeter. so close so drawn in where days are begging for clemency. but a passing miracle an old essence so purple but life is terror. to serenade sobriety to ask permission while a soul might kiss liquor-lips. so overtaken is but gestures, where Love would lie so much elegance, while a man thought pure sophistication—as dying to revive such years in battle where the brigade was filled with victims. as left behind a new love while memories irrigate a fragile soul. but Love was free. Love knew freedom. or Love never died aside a black soul. such aches, or dewdrop eyes, while death was the antagonist!  

Shards Of Freedom

soft tender exercises upon a mind adrift made foreign to itself. such a desire for you, if but Peruvian freedom in you, while I should know wisdom; for nothing human has but freedoms, where freedom is omni-relational, or as we assert, it has no limitations. but this is anarchy, where freedom is rebellious, while it needs to overthrow itself, plus, order as it’s situated. I would chase calmness, some sort of dying in private, where I rendered a texture known as freedoms. some kid from urban areas as distraught by political-economics while some soul preached about socio-political-ownership.    

we censor violence, where it has a location, but we condemn here while we condone there. it dismays us, as to realize, a terrorist group has been in plain view for several decades.     but those realities are unseen.

we say, “America is tolerance.”

            we chance electrocution or years cringing so militant so radical while streaming suicide. a man facing kef or death but acceptance is everyday homicide. we boycott fathers we censor fragments while a baby is in need of formula. such a meager existence or finally accepted where most have a subset of demands.     plus, Anger found Love. Love was freedoms. so, Anger activated Rage. it comes the color it dies in frustration while most never change.    

            we seek such excellence, as given freely, despite a group of distinct behaviors. we need love forever, while we misfire our acts, in such a voice as to demand freedoms.

            it becomes a question, or better a statement of, “So what!” but it’s heart by matter by par excellence into roads or valleys by indifference to oceans of blood puddles.

Snail Paced Freedom

such by a building or effigy or ideal; as haunted by freedom, the amusing project, where deep freedom is obedience, structure, or power—a filled wallet or boredom or minds fraught by chess pieces. I reappear looking glossy a bit tipsy on existence; so born to persist where leisure is fortunate but offered to few ants: such working frenzies, or assurance in a compliment, or something forfeiting insistence. but freedom is an enterprise. it designates socio-economic control. it means liquor or drugs or too much depreciation—of self while hanging by balconies or overly appreciative of razors—the choice such power while I live for her or him or children quite independently; so misbehaved as a slave to instincts for this is freedom by desire—as hedonists or book literate machines so analytical even sex is science; a project a niche or a spur digging into human ethics. by justification as to ruin his guts or to require something we can’t uplift. such internal pickets such occasion to hate ourselves where behaviors become instruments.

by bullhorns as racing through hallways where doors keep slamming; but it was ever such joy some video recording while angst built, it lived where death was sweet existentialism. our raving exhaustion or compound prisons while cultists retreat, suffocate, or go mad—such power such a mosaic life, such cloister or gamble or exile. our appointed freedom. our mental field trips. where we must be correct.     I dig a ditch. I sit therein. I’m dusty preaching at ants. I realize frenzy or rage or conundrum; but I impose I ask questions I put more on the mind of Jesus. such a supposition or such a disposition while I’ve designated self to watch or spew over a stew of spirit-ingredients. but what by freedom this mansion where we see rooms or cages or more freedoms; to fallback on morals while such a heathen, if this is of a mindset?     such deeper decisions coming at a snail’s pace by pure frets!    

Agouti’s Don’t Say, “Love”

by cheetahs as murdering dirges or frames exposing silence.

such windows by widows, sore sad sullenness.

to have meads in violence as apes war for bounty, body, or beauty’s variation. insomuch as harems such want for monogamy where facts seduce ideals.

a soul to its master. a slave to his mistress. so fractured, so frenzied, if but one fire amidst oppression.

it seems madness such whispers to filter cushion to attack anticipation, for she screams; those ears mangled those addresses made vocality

where touch seems too far to un-passion.

as dumb or deaf or delirious—for Love sweet misery so spurned one morning; to have resemblance to know caramel eyes or aglets claiming lips.

so aged by minutes for suffering seemed success upon a whet petal:

such gymnast words or acrobatic calves while dying seemed so cruel—

too unflinching, so pantomime, so much by ink.   

Bolting The Water Heater

festoons by moons or drastic candy so sour so sweet such change those years. as rotten ghosts to entice his guts while a man needed everything: those rosaries, as if, while the promise is heaven. it lives out-there it dies in here such requirements to become insufferable: that nice person, eating chitlins but raw into a struggle; where Love is un-basic a set of noble integrities but something is yanking as it screams; such substance a firkin of intelligence while closeness unlocks the manic buffalo.

such a cult this walking riddle as cut like dying; if but to touch like someone insane or to outsoar desperation while interior lusts are at riot.

such alabaster where

we see syrup, in such a destructive alien; but Love is a monster such sophistication while just as concupiscent as Teyana Taylor. those grimace-miles or insufferable pigmentation where one adores self, nonetheless—the war in us, the bellicose angel in stars, while his ruling planet is Loon Ville. but such irrelevance by a broken candle as time would flicker in her absence.

I leave my soul. I blare a trumpet. I smelt fire!

if but to flit passed flame if but to exist as a good creature if but strong for

violence.

such dolor the melancholic/hiding poet or memoirists so introverted, such birth! but stabbing his ribs or unhinging his trauma while conveyance is buoyant catastrophe; as aching permanence where such would be insoluble, for hate, pride or dynasty. our melting wings while it was its tornado as a man might erupt into a tsunami.  

I can’t reach nothing, its hell is too far its dungeon is buried in desolation—as shadows screaming indifference, this place we travel where skies are sheer disgusts. such crucibles a man mangled as Love looks like chambers. so lost in affliction so careful of affliction while water heaters are listening, or recording, they must be persuaded!    

Perceptual Gunfire

we live by sacrifice or contradiction a salvo of agitations—the blue mind the red shell or a turtle making headway. such artillery such mind/gunfire as souls blank into midnight—needing flight begging if hoary if but to function one last battle. by freedom to feel confused or negotiating something inside against itself. by social-gospel or NT psychology where one might need psychiatry. if but to medicate while Thorazine was popular, if but to ensure mental isolation. upon a clipboard, pros versus cons, to discover it changes from second to moment. a monument of war a treasure of madness so built as to refurbish. those noetic swamps the noetic scar while aligning self is quite moving.     so defined by self or such disclosure to self while we design our turmoil—as rabid feelers adapted to environment while needing such approval is far too crucial. by sensual touch or violet kisses where mornings are their disguise—so left in Europe as we have forgotten Africa, or better, we cherish Athens over Egypt—by furious favor as against this reflection where one must project his orientation. such discredit or pure discernment to find humans are always edgy: for rights or lucre or other people!     those moss droppings or forests set to meditation where a person knows her contradictions, her biases, her ever changing decisions.     either a looking glass or an hour glass but souls are always vigilant: by tribal drums or Buddhist rivers or Tibetan tigers—those wheels spinning those horses galloping or muscles appearing to a young phantom.

we need an assortment as the mind chases its affinity while intra-activity is disputing brains. as sore to whispers upon a standing bridge while its connectors were obliterated.  

Want A Person’s Debris!

by opinion the man is grime or slime or filthy veins—to die with grits to flourish in linguistics as assaulted by beauty; such furnace flames or picnic passions to arrive exhausted or ashamed. I spoke it, it stuck, granny was laughing those grains such seeds while a man eats soil—those beige grassroots as accustomed by violence where a mother uninvested a son. to ponder deeply, while needing to believe, but evidence shows by core majority is rotten. such by payment for all that was good where a person might burn its captives. what becomes the recipe; to whom do I complain; by knees, boots or such sour allegiance?     I felt ferocity while leaping levity where most were clapping at the fall: a man running to Africa, this long trail, so confounded by oceans: he bought a boat, while he sailed, only to arrive by discovery—his skin wasn’t solid enough! it’s different for souls, it starts inside, while most people are overdue for some housecleaning. such criticism where many decline social contracts, while most would become quite unruly!     I was but a flea in this vast expansion to become worthy of a second glance; but Love was roots, a bit insecure, while mastering sophistication: it separates existence, this pillar of amazement, where most are just waiting for liaisons. so much a need, as to feel proud, be proud, or expel internal chasms; if but to adore as too to be protected while never would a moment indict! such construction such removal while I never adored as sight unseen. I go further while walking mind-yards as to invest in something pushing its motive. a pair of gloves, a matching belt, or leather boots; a jacket in burgundy a letter to essence while we argue over substance. but Love was devastating where Angel was delirious as affected or moved but silence was too precious. a man to his guts his girt resounding if but to maintain a certain life. such a tune such propriety as one would seep so indeterminately. those zones those warning cones those orange reflectors—as something indecent where lives are damaged but one culminates something inescapable.         

        

Footpath Into Tallgrass (Sun Lake By Sunbird)

I knead us if but to feel complete but something else may appear: the futuristic cult the feline damsel or money chases into foreign regions. so lost for us or so cursed by us while mother grates the aspiring poet—his legacy built upon salt the shore bleeding seaweed or a seesaw upon a mid-ocean battle. to claim love as it seems impossible but have you had a child? such broken music such carpet rashes while his face is near to mugs. our frantic argument our silent whistle while predicament means losing more than pain could unlock. those pitch-forks the summer alien as confused where miracles are ecstasy. (but Love is dynasty or cherished while being a lesbian is so damn powerful!)     so much data while we swim mazes where art is crucial to dying. as a man demented or so in line it’s incredible while wrongness has invaded the temple:

so cured those days

such a joke those nights while a man plays the buffoon; character cries aesthetic eyes while I want more than life might sustain. our minds in heaven our bodies framed while father swears, he’s immortal—the mind shunning or gunning where detriment is a good time. (wilder thoughts if but to imagine a father fretting for the Sun Lake or a man needing more closure. if but war than deaths into a weary horizon while the sun woke up late. so filmed in me to replay the communicating wisdom insomuch as a woman so far ago!)     no shortcuts, Precious, no clemency, Sweet Lakes, where one is angered, or accepting, while denial is a survival curtain. the restless bard those frenzies in time where a man has been rereading Asia. so famished or flamed while Love speaks Spanish; to hear his name, to bear his conversation, or tripping over something no one has acknowledged.

our aquarium nightmare our damaged try-harder as episodes in a distant first legacy.

such has been

doctored or partly sutured while I don’t give you enough credit: you make for your mind, you have clearance to top tiers, you have determined, such by core reasoning, to depart or vanish or make best with science.

a dear chain a raiding brain so fueled upon a footpath.    

I’ll leave hell or graffiti heaven while somewhere reknitting limbo; or cargo jettisoned or girlfriends lethal where a man needs too much psychology.    

the daughter is an angel the mother is a queen where the father is held by roots; something killing me, while it was best, for we’re all in better demand—those academics or those siblings or never a want for augmentation; surefire trust as such to never quell peace at deeper survival thrusts; strobing existence or becoming psychanalytic or such by a sad particle; in such as to live, to decide firmly, where anxieties are mere fears under-girt by subconscious, or unconscious stimulants.