it ruins
by behavior while it hides disgrace or it campaigns. so left behind or seated in dungeons while
so many are susceptible; such black licorice as repelling or such a black
heart. we have distaste or unbelief if but to know history. such black skies or
hectic terrors so much to unravel. I could if unknowingly while one raffles off
each thought. it was distrust or heinous intention while one feels suffocated.
such a black monsoon or darkened humans where thoughts are plural; sheer deceit
or devious gesture where others laugh at the price.
such
sensuous greed so dearly rapacious as it strikes by menu to destroy.
the
beat takes us softly those clowns barefaced or black art; to have lived in such
harm while vexed by spiders into a zero.
but
a child someone’s child while everyone is oblivious.
granny knew for she taught while everyone is proud. such frothing poison to awaken at night where it’s so easy to trapdoor an insect.
I would
to feel those undying affections where the widow is prideful. so much blindness
as a requirement. so much reassurance. where one feels so little as such a vile
spider. our curse in lies our union in venom while we act with certainty.
it isn’t good unless plural. it isn’t loved but by needs. it remains expendable.
the soul is unpleasant. it dies to exist. while many attempted to escape. (so much to die for blackness so much a blessing to flee or such a lose while uncertain.) a man is in limbo while no one is concerned where he is coerced to adore his culprit; for this is life, such humbling widows where reality isn’t noticed.
again to love you
or to feel claustrophobic into an aura which might undo me. if but those
bulbous moons those alarming cries where a man is sick but he agrees: this must
be our lot, it gets better, a woman is scents or courage while hiding from her
mirror. she feels alienated, the crime isn’t explored, the vagrancy is
condemned—such trespass, where one must disconcert, while fretting the
existence which unveils—such precious paradox or something ironic, where beauty
is so vandalized.
to near its fire is
to become scorched while failure is never by its culprit; either submit or be
dismissed where there is ever another target.
such deep movement
while feeling dread such shame as it internalizes; but motion is consuming or
value is anxiety while one makes the observer approve.
it seems softer
into a dear person while somewhere it was unsold in self; it depreciated its
image, such gusts of insecurities, while many find something to attach to; the
pain of the merry-go-round, sheer force by disbelief, where blackness is its
darkness—so unfelt it has become normal as to enter knowing it shall end in
deaths!
