the
life-sage or zinnias upon skies while rain is prophetic; those arts sure panic
while undergoing levity; the mountain preaches those altars rage a soul is born
with horns. such limerence or bound by planets where nothing makes much sense.
by boneless spirit or bone-filled words so steady into more pain. three
dimensions so cursed adoring worldwide coverage—a man to restlessness a
catastrophe with wings so visceral such passionate vexation. our wasteland our
pilfered souls our prolific agonies; as uncured dungeons or radical structure,
if but to go batty at a slight deviation; to tie horsehair to bleed from
sackcloth or to sit in a box screaming our innocence; but was it nectar or was
it sweet, to know with static awareness—our claims our calamity while so guilty
we hover lowly? take my place. laugh when sentenced. or cry while crucified;
for he doesn’t matter, for we are angry, therefore, it’s normal to treat one
like dung; it depends upon feelings; some we adore; others we devastate—while this
is existence! I am impious or
deceased or running back to myself. I am garbage or eeriness or too saved to
avoid deeper anguish. I walk with vault-keepers or un-sing dear trespasses
while loving a creature I must let go! it’s complicated. it ruins goodness. or
it leaves a person indicting hope. the socket in brains the fuse in spirits or
to meet one so removed it seems to complain! such delicate creatures. so strong
unnecessarily! while needing acceptance.
what is his pain
to souls feeling days are irrelevant? what is her soul to one suffering a
nameless life? such identity through others, where silk is on fire, while dying
has become irrelevant. to reduce existence to absurdity. to push hills into
creeks. or to relive one last supercell into a warzone, while claiming
sensitivity.
