it shouldn’t be
difficult. it really might be easy. if some person in there. (by flame to adore
passion such shame while dear attraction.) I have run in you, I have fun in
naivety, it’s so hard to die. as a man enlove or core problems, while prevented
from love. so much a shrub so deceased in you while so much life in you. such
contradiction. it makes little axiom. where walls look like candy. such holds
such behavior a man was so damn silly. to frighten while shedding shoulders as
abused by a slight recognition. eyes in Gucci or tears in Prada so ashamed of
fretting what dies. to lose fiercely or to kneel by begonias at some detention
center. those halls so cursed your tallness too alluring or your nonchalance so
irritating; a man is a giant in some fictional island where remorse is all he
feels. to flounder satisfaction, so famish for thrills, while adoring hurt is
so ridiculous; a soul in orbit a talent in shackles while writing is so
inhibited. those roads in you those frowns in me while we’re so desperate. stripped
of conscienceness or adorned in confession while alms cover a multitude of
ignobility. (I was fascinated. I never could meet you. it was senseless to muse
dynasty. sure in fire so unsteady so goofy. by banister glisten or glitter to
aura slipping into dementia. as remembering edginess too open to behaviors when
a man would play piano. it shivers these days. it hates dishonesty. in a world
claiming monopolies. where passion is angst or anticipation is pain if but
ruined is beauty. those grounds as I would tread to find decency in a lost
prayer. such round eyes so dedicated to winning while I never understood pure dissatisfaction.
those brown shields those helmets bleeding if but to marry such aloofness.) I would
love you. I would placate a feeling. it was utter terrific.
