you may be veiled or looking at an hourglass or fiddling with ink pens. life may seem senseless requiring courage while knuckling down means killing emotions. you may sing in union while feeling like lakes or abandoned to such a struggle. (nothing looks perfect, everything is unchaste, while Love soothes those falling fears. as to die in horizons or to snap a photo where pixels seem heartless.) to take my place with all of heaven desires something those multiple deaths. it’s been barrows of misery a tunnel of joys while bars become brain-matter.
such
effluence as pouring into literature while most are debating staircases. but brooks
are flowing an effusion is explosive while I kidnap a number of promises. if a
dream will not submit, we die harder. if pain will not surrender, we adorn it
with a tender exploit. such leniency or captive a thought or so clear nights
are in homage.
huts
are homes or mansions are rooms or offices are undebated. so much to exist as
searching avenues for something so guileless.
a
future in hazes those smazelike dungeons while something is accumulating
memories; but you know reality it stands at a cliff it’s quite vocal often
disrespectful; you are the firebird those firebrands those endless sparks
fueled by deliverance.
such a revved beating or clanging drumkits those furious opinions where it doesn’t quite make his point. to abode in fire to rinse in terrors or to abate a feeling some difficult memory. our first boat, either hīnayāna or mahāyāna, to uncurse something dying to destroy us: those mythic mirrors, those mystic memoirs, as unrestored or petting some fragile pet. if but to resurrect to over-mountain while wild-berries are flooding our sylvan. the man in his ink or the daughter in her voice so refurbished by deeper studies.
into
meads or stimulants or soft-spoken charms—while angst is loud inner jitters
confused where a man stutters. such inly gates to have divorced saviors where
it all seems so clear. a young soul has enough, this is appearance, while
properties, even axioms, are absolute certainties. such plumbless conviction
where resistance is met by obstinance or arguments grow by intensity. but life
is uneven it dies with its inhabitants while carrying torches is always
unsteady. to know by certitude, I imagine is splendid, for no one is allowed to
speak. our frets over damages our wars with oligarchy while we become despots.
by lines so unfair as if your reality is so unknown while some have lived your
existence. pain is friendly, it never discriminates, but
perception/understanding is what offsets its impact. so uncured in us. some
roaring animosity. or so star-crossed. as babes roaming woods, so faced by
cubs, to decide the mother will come soon.
