we
know sequences or consequences where we grow deaf. we relive to actually live
while we desire to outlive—those empire eyes or oppression while wrestling with
approved injustice—where one might celebrate another would war but in essence,
we crawl feeling like we run—as faster moons or it meant something else while
days are gravity or relaxation if but roots teary or re-crossed. those horns as
majesty would curl into states of alteration; so tailored to our celebration
our freedom to adjust, relocate, or accept anything separating anguish. …but disgruntle souls as given to
cedar-secrets where souls detach from actual circumstance…such paraded flame,
into fire that’s water, while running oceans but unwet—those un-filmed,
ostracized, or internal-oaken movies.
as
a soul would see, a soul would unravel, a soul would live by dying.
so much bigger
than sequences so much more than consequences as realizing something is unordinary:
those emphases as they speak, the neighbor that laughs, those trips as they
become dear whispers—but one watches, she smiles, she’s angry some have seen her.
such
equations to gamble our minds while seated, a bit annoyed, but we rarely claim
something inordinate. we might engage so much a thrill where we see
similarities in a given species. those eyes that couldn’t or a body that wouldn’t
while much is invested in an aloof moral code. so much to expire by, or so much
to inspire by, while it only happens for a few souls.
