digging
ditches, hand held grenades, so engaged so much gravel. to die each breath, to battle
galaxies, as a soul banished from God. (they should read it, or rear it, or
respond to it.) something is furious, “I come to divide,” while some are sheep
most are goats. our human condition as flushed by misery a man drinking
rubbing alcohol. our minds our kidneys our livers! to care our last hour, or
tortured in fields, while a man lost an arm. so much her wit so much her
intellect—we wonder whereabouts of her heart. such a pantheon such precious
patience, as afforded one affinity. Love is existence, a man’s glory, they have
eight kids. mother is existential. mother is tapped wires. (mother is relaxed
enough!) our activities, our dissonance, our unfettered daydreams. at sudden a
loss or casual a thief while we rethread the ransom. a cursed passion, it was
meant to die, it was wretched filthy humans. (we can’t say, “Disgusted,” or
confess our utter displeasure. we remain silent, looking at a person, weary
something might slip out. or we fawn for riches, we dance for promise, if but
to be bequeathed some luxury. our minds casual angst our feelings like fevers
our horrors honed: such an audience or such autonomy while some volunteer for
servitude.) so enchanted at sight where a man is clumsy so captured so
unrealized; from passion to acidic or from acidic to passion, our incipience
bleeding blessings. such crazed teenagers or surefire young adults so much to
augmenting what we feel
so
much to re-dying as but to evolve with anxieties.
