the
culture faces unrest. our souls, zealous creatures—our minds hayfields. the
legacy of cotton the heritage of Africa or soft beauty as it dances. to whittle
personality or hanging from neurotransmitters so whet upon a vessel. those
miracles so short as living such raw feelings. whelmed by attraction to imagine
sheer happiness while both are disguising tragedy; as it seeps out as it
cringes daily where faces twitch such dear trauma. to unsay something
incredible to wrestle something terrible while our world judges, dear disgraces!
so unnoticed or boldly overlooked where I met too many to count. as unknit
machines or rethreaded victims while we now say, survivors. such marshy/smoked
filled eyes; too dear to reimagine; while a man might adore another culture. to
love like languishing or to dodge a bullet where a man is considered callous;
but Angel was sweet such the wearing of femininity while strong in sensuality. I
begged for forgiveness, for such unkempt thoughts, but it’s too vital to a
woman; as left with filth or gathered for redemption where one is aware of all
one would hide. the troth of rain so pluvial its passion while weary or
wavering like innate dragons.
upon a locket so fair a rose so fortunate
its destitution. to fear you, such an affectionate person, where she lives for
experience. we say it differently, we don’t say sex as derogatory, we say those
we have loved. the pain we have shared the humanity we have lived the angst we
carry born of society. such freedom to be, while it’s more to be,
where society judges too much togetherness. such social aglets such dear
psychology while one just wants out of those boxes. or sure into a family,
hoping it swims more, where something may become uneasy: such travail in
swooning, such license in unconditional, while we presume certain answers are
self-explanatory. to walk those waves to color those vestibules or to end on a
casual note.
