music
is sad or calligraphy is maddened while life peddles something unclear. the
cursive of the phantom or misery of aloneness where destitute or abandoned.
such curious casualties while trying with fury if but to escape an interior
hourglass. pure beauty in you so militant in us while loving seems natural but
hectic; as cries scream or skies redeem to imagine we’ll be fine. by levity for
love or hate for healing or so rewound it’s wrong to sing; those angelic
rhythms a wife so tender or a bit of a gamble. sole frustration. or a dire
requirement. where if you love me, you’d adore mother. the daughter protects
the family. the family permits such grief. the daughter has never been a kid.
such responsible progeny such dependable wardens where rights are given as
reasons to protect. a soul worries for mother, or wrangles with self, or feels
claustrophobic; while others live, they pursue wishes, they never pause their
activity. the soul as magic. those minds as astral. or such a softer moment
while altered. I write for excellence. you live for excellence. such excellence
often saves it faces. today is blasé. deeper receptors. even destructive
seriousness.
there is less in us as creatures
soon obligated dragons. the parade is lethal, ghosts stand with armor, thus,
battle is with interior reflection or mirage. the perfect person, so worthy of
affectation, so dedicated to impressing others; as a whole life, so given to
pleasing anybody, where this has to be living. but what if a scoundrel fools
you, as such a hidden reality, where it all unfolds? so much a ruse so much as
unhealthy while most just call it the game! but we leave essence alone, we dine
on our mirages, where everyone is perfect.
it
simmers atop a fire lake while most are eating their behaviors; where one must
be watched, else one is wayward, while most of us run out of energy. the
searching soul. as open at all times. while accountability means so little.
such remains vague, our pictures are snapped, while change is by miracle: but
perfect souls don’t change, they remain perfect, wherefore, we always forgive
them.
