by
dulcet voice so charmed by celebration infused with loneliness. such inner
conflict but a candle winking such pure delirium. I have understood rejection
where I first abolished such tender forgiveness; the man in his bottle the
woman to her pipe or anxiety upon whispering souls. such susurrus winds or
academic zephyrs where reality seems a taste tawdry. it becomes melody such jagged musicals at
penalty for something desperate; as written away so soon in life while it might
be necessary. as remembering adverse feelings while it struck senses where it
wasn’t sure pleasure. by reptilian art to have gained footage while ceiling
glasses watch by guts. to adore a
person’s innocence, for one never suspects, until it’s too late to become whole
again. such sheer robbery as to destroy a person’s essence, with such aim to
re-victimize absorbing earth. it’s never sufficient as long as one keeps
kicking where some are quite elevated. such cages carried by consideration into
chaos so splayed while mental passion becomes pain—those forces so dear a kiss
where many are frozen in slime—a soul to his desert a woman to her arts or a
child by osmosis. if but neutrality a man might render a palm of
angel-diamonds; but hectic havoc such hells if but to heal by haven or honor;
those valley skies or parrots keeping company where weather is a radical
agenda. such pure fire into fury so fretted so fragile while flamed a curse or
nearly flippant—for Love is unchartered terror so stressed so terrified; if but
fresh water or miracles where one suggests a part he may have occupied: at non-instruction,
as mere chameleons, or something such vibrant darkness; to touch or taste or
trouble—while minds are menticide or dearly mangled.
