by
animation our social meals cuddling baby wolves. such sweet gossip. I love its
taste. while I prefer other topics. so many cheery tears so captivated while
Love agonizes. the angst we give. the pain we cherish. where most let
butterflies soar. I run a road like a marathon if but to see those happy eyes.
but life is an audit where souls are indicted while we sense ourselves. I have
adored an alien I have charged an engine I disappear into a younger self. you
might disapprove you might dislike behaviors but have you indicted honesty? such
bleeding wolverines such tense reality where a daughter becomes superwoman: to
carry trials or travail or hectic a night in our screams: to toss or turn to
gather or strew where the harvest is ghosts. so many sockets such plugs begging
where a man is an animal. too concerned with sexuality, or too debated in time,
while if hate is medicine something went wrong. I know you for I know
situations while a soul lives as if: the courage to be you the travail the toil
where you must undergo. such a maelstrom such mannish elements or cursed to
live the good life. such values such arête such turmoil in deciding, should I abhor
him? those padlocks, those unforgiving, “I know life,” if but a cure so simple
it stinks. the coach in you those velvet identities while we harbor a secret
fantasy: to have a daughter or to mentor a father while days lead into moons.
to awaken in Agnes to feel like a Protestant or some runt with a bucket of
remedies; if but his advice if but for self while so worried concerning certain
extremes.
we starve for
affection we become captives of affection while affection is often rationed
out. one might admire you if but to acknowledge you while thirsty to
test/offend you. but I feel guilty or inadequacy or something where I’m not the
total in-excellence. such vintage disgraces such narrated allegories where
convo goes as follows: “We’ve done what we can do.” so easy this way. so
self-endorsing. while it soon becomes normal.
