thrown dice as they flip
a touch by intuition—so abandoned or polite conversation while forced to
suffocate anguish; as turning into perfection our office-faces so deep into it.
at deadlock so rough it hurts so baffled it feels sphinxlike. to have so much
built upon filth while feeling so proud. it confuses kindness it looks for
implantation while its garden is muddy happenstance. so gathered these days all
parts are present so heavy into bone marrow; eating briers or sacrificing soil
as a soul steady at its missile; such collision such warfare while touching is
a mistake. to awaken feeling anxieties to rest feeling malaise or to pardon
inside something unresolved—so sickly so arrogant while destroying something is
pleasurable. (or lost in love trying to unlock its kernel where one projects a
watchword—by trapdoor by flesh machete so casual when they speak. so many
ailments as too serious while mankind is faint of heart; to protest too much where
it might be sunny but something acts as a cloud a shroud something showing
imperfection.) by absence to have become acute or sold to something too
horrific. each seed split in divisions so uncured so nonchalant while we’ve
learned to hold composure to cement secrets where nothing can quite be uttered.
it matters this way, a protected diary, while myriads are suffering. so parched
or star-cells such uncouth determination; to ask for mercy or so lost with
nothing to depend upon. so much for a few as night keeps calling it’s been
darkness for five moons. so exaggerated as we wish it away as long as it never
comes to its surface: damn an ulcer or too much stress—just treat me, as
telling me, I’m godlike.
