it
elicits me as it tugs such in depth celebration. those bucolic ideals or
California evasiveness such the touch of a scent. by unfurled toils by worked
paths while the garden is on fire; utopic ideograms or sin tasting sweet but
sour or loud cavalier essence. it elicits me it invades me we sit falling into
consistence; such resonance, I dare say, communion, while we have escaped such
words. I can’t grow nearness, you can’t sing appetites, we just travel,
sutured, wailing, as eating auras. it solicits its harbinger. I came for a
feeling. I didn’t fathom the direction. was it a daughter? was it you? or was
it me in me so concerned with erasing me? too many chores, or none were done,
so, what was occupation? I feel its power. I was to call it ethereal. while you
call it human—such proclivity so damaging, if done incorrectly. so much fire.
how has she made love? how has she died for one? so touched so becoming a man
might feel towards divinity. classical literature, the gunas, so raja,
so Bhakti—as yoga would un-grave or christic his piano while
activity seems so sensual; those modalities those aggravations while
undercurrents are pelted by sexual intensities. so purple by opulent spirit or
so cursed as livid reality such by one hating his guts; or a longer line, while
we chase indestructible axioms or reverse early morning pinching a flea; so
nightmarish, too detectable, while hiding nothing: he wants ownership, he feels
rejected, in midst of love-making. it elicits me such innocence pushing inside of
a monster—those glowing auras a touch while one smiles, I knew to run! into us
so steep while never alone. to ponder David his assertion where one knew his
concentration. the behavior to beseech me as one implored what they empowered.
such moving missiles such curious maintenance such semi-mathematics; for one is
there in those crevices while snug in a bundle.
