something
surprises fair soul the gravity of frustration our addict history. so vicious
into pain so alienated inside such ravishing aches. if a map or one we portend
such raw, underwater government—by human computers while decoding others where
addiction is pivotal: the data of the lioness, or a need for ultimate control,
where souls are unfit for solace. we
met power. we clashed with power. both are wilderness by winds. by treasured weather, so long for tears,
such internal television—or raving media!
an inner video, recording gestures, a man so much addicted to dying; the
famed misery of in-vocality, so seated so flustered, forced by such nature it
unravels niceness. the physics of
pure disgust where one says something cruel while he expects to work with a
human. those interior cameras those freedom wars while most believe in beating
a person into compliance; such a goal garnering an audience while often met by
failure. it doesn’t matter in an
instance while furious the soul is growing. it becomes dealing with behaviors—the
same person a different galaxy—where reality has so little to do with behavior.
either office indentures or phone indentures or unfortunate chemistry—as two
despise reflection, or hated realities, where both must function somewhat
unclearly! that thin thread while trapesing softly into a steep terror; the
mind’s magazine this bleeping catalogue or torture in a bag struggling to
evaporate: a gut phone a clever district or too damn wise to find closure. we need you
if but for one reason to remove the onus from our quarters: God knows! the flex
of the venom, the rage of the silence, the gut as it showers rinsing its filth.
such a need for such a recipe, where most ignore it all the way to the farm. by
topic by distance while pulled or yanked where mirrors become monsters.
