Carnivals Are Combined by Ghettoes

 

I made a slingshot, it was craft with a hanger, plus, rubber-bands and a patch. it seemed simple it seemed pure but what else occupied time?

such mental lash such black licorice or haven-heart into a white queen. such raw resistance such needs for perfection, I wanted a virgin.

indeed, some adolescent wish some kingdom in men where women might need an acrobatic.

too alarming, for we never imagine, a black goddess. some heroine some essence to die enlove with scents—or some womb too powerful where men are accustomed to easy.

lips speak quickly while hearts renege—it was so instinctual. but reversing into time, some crime we commit, where fixing leaning towers seems important

—the ghosts in souls while he dreams so cut by apartheid.

            by glowing outwardly or seas in dooms where clowns’ mock serenity—some wraith mating some omen while mother gazes into door-fixtures.

            I liked origami as something in rites where most were held at attention.

            the block is contagious so flammable so indiscreet—war into veins such tar or rawness while one is going through dejections. such convulsions so many phantoms such roaring vomit.

            I saw a man as sawn in twain his intestines leaking on concrete. such tandem cries such swarming flies while we carried his trauma. too much ease with it, too quick to status quo, at terror looking like normality.

            I made a skateboard from stolen wood and hammy-down parts. mother laughed or cracked a joke—beauty was so long ago I can’t remember.

            some magnetic force some volt in signs while each by differentiation.

            (more to honesty.)

in this field of thorns, thickets, or one flower. I was smitten some mitten to heart, for one was so indistinctive; as distinguished as life, so captive in our woes—to die like shivers to dry-out like skies, heaven is so humid.

too deep in its pouch such Love for its ribbon, while senses played salsa.

 

Freesia Winds

 

the chaos of the leopard, sick into psychoses, while appeasing perceived friends. some cavalier person, some trenchant discourse person, or someone needing control. I left a watt somewhere in memory I coasted into delirium. if to break tyranny some group of strangers while titles are not signings of goodness. the mechanism as those remotes as signatures of authority. some serpent discussion while we watch as desiring our entrance; so cold into December such rain for a day, while I need to conquer me. if but to explain the aching discomfort while most are pressing forward. such hunting rites such crevices while a woman was just circumcised. souls depart alone as they entered in company such ruthlessness. the book was displaced the cigar was stolen the feeling in one knowing how we make sex. such bears in our pursuits, such reaching coyotes, while a person might permit desecration. indeed, a vessel has loved, she has died, while she loses her best confidant. or a man, as never a seductress, to fight for dear life so late into memories. pain becomes intelligence, a keen intuition, a freeing nature. at something open to alleviate anxieties while most feel art is too liberal. I loved like crazy, I cheated early on, a close acquaintance told, got close, then moved on.

Frost & Warmth Create Or Break Souls

 

the shore is a road which parts at intervals. bled dry in adolescence or uncured as an adult or saying some indelicate thing. too close to assume too afar to conclude or so studied by intuition. rain falls it splashes asunder many particles are wet feelings; to despise some person to optout of penalties while pursued by hyenas. misinformed or ever on point—we know by attitudes or blues or moodiness; such a component so many seeds while an ostrich is buried in soil. a fire in you a flame is me so restricted from being at essence. angst is delicate or sex is chased while most are clear into dangers. further beneath sound into waterweeds under a seas-bed.

too fragile to listen too delicate to see while true meaning comes by passivity. if caring is present it must be flexible it must obey its ruling fever. by aquarium a startle, by sea-belts an awakening, while age is chasing us; such marshweed while chewing gnats while a man ate locusts; at a dovetail into a cheetah while carrying an elephant.

a doorknob a capture a child behind his mother; blood purple veins such tattooed flesh while most desire ultimate sensation—upon horsehair gripped in orgasmic lock to sew an ingredient.

as a blacksmith in a plural atmosphere to learn rules are mainly for others; such blithe at times, it become cheerful indifference, where something has been stolen: a child’s eyes, such independent diligence, or deep personal curiosity.

as to look or assume with no want to investigate. so much rejection, it kills sentiments, where we try to protect ourselves. but alienation comes, so much a sinkhole, where adventure is foggy mirrors.

such inkstone such blots or impersonal labels; to define a person based in insecurities where most are judging based in resistance.

so inedible without remorse to have killed such in spirit—scars made indelible!

16 Whispers: Who Is Responsible?

 

into city meadows or wooded alleys with depth of insight. to despise his-self or to redeem a portion where most remain unsatisfied. either here or there, either play dice, or fret discomfort. it was a small boat a difficult terrain while feuded over melanin. so internal, as to request, others desist—such presidential miracles, or pure destruction, as to sense many disgusted. but plumbless color or royal priests so much more satisfied with caseworkers. across a star or half passed five, as rolling into Marina Del Ray. too sensuous for faint heart or protesting too much, where it becomes difficulties. life is like decaf, or life is like sockets, or life is in-between and more. by plash of music by lakes far into woods, or riding some trance quickly into disturbance. so greensward by a clump while years have caused callousness. (so urgent so upset so disrupted; sure tension such tendency while some lights are legendary; our choking souls or chaotic sensors as concrete survivors: one moment to exist is a lifetime chasing!) such rabble of its author or such gravel of its winter while soft into attraction—those as witnessed to know a soul wants her; condone our vaultkeeper, or disbelief in attentiveness, such force in our courage. upon a funny bone, while Love accepted babble, where one is too concerned. such city crypts such roving agendas if but to adore it might be lethal! a pool of crooks a block of sirens, where a son was curled in a knot standing uprightly. so many walls or so little mirrors if but to confess, “I’m the hero/heroine of my life!”

              

Hard to Receive Outskirts

 

being goofy is normal. feeling insecure is normal. many expect these elements. I walk further, I see a cliff, I leap—such flapping such feathers such spread’d wings. so at her side so pathological while nurturing some interior wound; to guide self, to administer research as a soul indebted to sorrows. by beauty of dying by richness in wounds or passion in suffering; to need desperately to hold like living by sin to ruin perception.

            over a Smirnoff or under a cigar to hit life rolling our dice. to rethink on happiness or to silence a thought while days consist of fulltime maintenance. too much reading or too little satisfaction while sure against pleading for particulars. indeed, the gospel of interiority or those namaste mansions while two people might vibrate for hours. Love was naked. her gown slipped. a man has favor in helium. too uncured to revive or such a path in valleys while we trekked three alleys; to arrive in patience or to see something outlandish, it never surprises where indecency might appear. but a softer spot a dear phantom while angling for insightfulness.

            it wouldn’t survive, in pure blizzards, while most are claiming lieutenant.

            I drift into a soul someone I met while sudden into recognition. those sagic wars some person inside where Luther was adamant.

            Love angered her-self to distortion of her mantels to realization of her stature.

            I misunderstood essence it was life so far into a panic—those blinds those nearby curtains, where a child looked for visitors. an inner chairwoman such interior business while most deny their importance—this too is expected.

            I passed a church. I entered, said a prayer, and gazed into those wicks burning—as surrounded by wax. I thought of Descartes; I wondered by way of passivity; we often dispute our academia as a means to status—as opposed to true wrinkles.    

We Empathize With: “It Was Made This Way.”

 

welted flesh or broken lyres so gathered—irredeemable parts! a standing ghost in communication it was like heaving in his loins. to run to pages to smear bibles to eat as crumbs dropped. some inscrutable scripts or impatience in terror too lost—I must be located! 

he reacted as redacted with rage seeping lower. 

by art to have feelings if open with our systems. 

a man craved he was ambitious a woman noticed his deaths—to choke on fumes or granny in her rooms, while she slams ashes. a distant aunty a remarkable daughter—my mother so dependent while forced to take charge; a pain in guts a fever in memory while hypomanic for months. 

others wouldn’t love her they saw imperfection but a man might hump and run. so discharged in life or paid for favors to imagine a soul selling flesh for mammon. 

some drug so cursed where humility doesn’t register nor does disgusts come by interests. 

by origin to sin by graves to abate while one is thirsty—such pineapple trespasses such sequoias along our highways or rose thorns scraping our upper thighs. to refilm myths to race into conscienceness while ignoring anything which lessons survival; some cruel element some cruel demeaner, while reasoning softly!

Ambition. Success. Graves.

 

into melody or wars so accursed by graves — such a tomb such deliverance so cathartic. upon a wolf to ask a favor while surrounded by coyotes. but leniency to charms or hectic an appeal to need forgiveness for breathing! so much color. it rules in anxiety. it isn’t considered mandatory. such bones as evidence, such melanin as crucial, so birthed as one forbidden — those lakes those antiques our wealth into a dear woman. I watch our scarecrow. he just hangs in limbo. such similarity by stagnation. so absorbed by ability or anxious in absence too clean to feel clean. 

            we welkin our bars such souls running faster our planet has a virus. our minds are airports such tarmac as arteries such proficient losing. by leather as consumed by campfire as restarted such lectures on those tinges of rain. 

            I read her work or her spirits while granny is still schizophrenic; in catacomb or skies her allotment as sameness while now she speaks clearer. 

we ate lemons with salt or pomegranates with loquats we sung a silent cadence. our rundown rummaging our filthy havens such healing in our slums. so occupied by rivers to study our destruction where mother is a crevice inhaling deeper. 

            we end with options as accused of bravery where most are gunning at slavery; those miles in mills those sawdust chills where a man might die eating too much pork. our minds in recovery our royal arts in captivity our boxes seeming so bestial. to die from start to finish. to shiver quicker into absence. or lastly, a man trying to explain insensitivities.   

Against Behaviors

 

it appears it was fruit or some metaphor while we blame woman. such denial, but if one participates, that one is culpable. however, most gentle or cryptic or elegant damsel—such a thief in soul such need for restitching where moons are romantic. a cuffed heart those bars such roots in tree bark; rings for centuries our aphoristic gardens or souls abased in time; by father to learn more by mother to socialize or by granny to connect wings. a man to his flower, a woman to her steel, where children seem our deliverance. but we need life or life requires sunshine such heroines in our storylines. such comfort as so digitized or too much to reason with; as aches simmer into disappointments, or fire is dropped in some pond, while so close it hurts to whisper. a hand in a crowd, or breath upon lips, or such riveting shock—to have died so early, while one tries so hard, but a portion of its mind is numb. such needs, as for magic berries, or some element permitting for intimacy. to love like flame while detached like execution where life is a great imbalance. sour reality in a jug of fear while trying disrupts activities—by force to behave by mistake to adore, in such shivering weather. rummaging hands where skies are raspberries or apricots or ice in pains to have believed against behaviors.     

Manuals Are Cultural

 

(men journal, women write diaries. it seems consistent.)? 

so hard-wired for rain or sorrowful peacefulness or approaching cogitation. so discordant inside or so much cache inside while reading into creative codes. where a poet says nothing, otherwise, something, at some focal length. to recreate instincts to acquire certain proclivities as a soul enlove with invisibility. like toe jamb some cleft in justice so spoiled while indelicate. an assemblage a montage or a collage of ups-and-downs; so beleaguered by our status so given to muddy waters while studying the platypus. we desire rural, bucolic, iridescent countryside(s); we face bungalows or bodies or distaste.

so much omission such eyes we trust or bounty for comforts.

redolent perfumes or skin soaked in soaps or an aroma such as inherent—our bold cries such as pestilence while a man must hide his religiosity.

I would doodle at times it seems telling where a trained person might see you. such carpet ushering us into chemistry. so much to take cover so instinctive to pet nondisclosure in a soul that hasn’t noticed himself; so, why for defensiveness, why qualm over someone detecting you?

we find questions, we struggle for clarity, while most answers are sheltered from intrusiveness.

we call for antiques to answer problems while we hold answers like trophies. by reaching some height, or placating some instinct, we presume something true if it appeals to sensitivities.

some are unique. they favor resistance. it must first sting to accrue an audience.

thus, pain is normal, in a land of mistakes, where brochures aren’t passed to each generation. but something itches sentimentality, our sacred books, where most reject them. we are wired for independence while wired for dependence while certain mandolins are most appealing. I’d sketch a monster fraught by black paint while depicting the interview of deficits.     

Journal The Journey

 

I sensed strength laced in animosity, but not just at us, but at self. how to tell a soul, something so personal as, “I sense you hate yourself?” it’s serious, all daftness aside, most have a dark chasm in there.

some steep sail, as it carries its ship, many have battled the holes at seas.

I was once an adolescent so concerned with an idea if but clarity on what we perceive. it sounds vague or uncertain — that a young person would be invested in thinking correctly … but walls had formed, pain was hungry, while I was soon captured.

it becomes a tussle, attempting to discount noticeability, wagered against typecast ideals.

a soul will yearn, as for something fabricated, while repudiating actuality.

a man sounds deeper than his allotment, or richer than his status, or something one can’t quite bag. it becomes gray interior or fabricated honesty or so much baggage one is forced to retreat — into silence or aloneness or isolation. a man ostracizes himself as stolen by independence where many have turned away. caring is difficult that way. carrying comes with boundaries. one will help until it’s no longer feasible.

often, we discount anything, as souls studying our struggle, at art if but some semblance of control. to learn words have intention, sentences tug in different directions, or better, paragraphs are meant for stark debate.

three scholars read Sun Tzu. each agreed at points. but each walked away with something unique. (it’s usual to condemn wildness. we need order. while we admire freedoms.)

the mind is offbeat — we train it forever this life — if correctly, we touch something peaceful.

nothing unique in this!

but we aren’t told something significant. the mind is designed to miscalculate. while the driver must encourage the mind in different directions.  

The War Is for Vaccines

 

what might become of investigation?

/ I get antsy inside / something is interrogating inside / a ladybug is near / I pat my leg / it flies up and lands closer inside …

but we never mention it, we just inhale it, something is meant to die.

how many variances? when will I get vaccinated? how do we rush faster?

I was shunning feelings. it seemed normal. I have played marbles inside. as a mosaic or prosaic or thetic or metric creature.

those emotions are all night long. the race is now ten months chasing. (I would like to apologize) … to spirits or dreams, while I have another vision.

I would one last seed or darkness as proficient or darkness as segue to insights — by valleys inside or alleys embedded where we watch souls sell proclivities.

one might admonish me or another might endorse me while many take sentences seriously … so blighted at times, or ethically uneven, or watching while listening — it can get silly!

I looked at an infant / she spoke clearly / I saw something special … such precise spearing such inedible emotion while kneeling on tarmac.

it was unusual while clarified — we just say, “Such and such is offbeat.” a scientist needs to unveil, a doctor needs to decode, or a therapist needs to listen.

a woman carries sharks. she unknits adolescence. she becomes a freedom fighter.     

RIP To Fallen Warriors

 

be it soil a sickle such respect for breath. adamant or anxious spraying lost in traffic—but grief for standards but pigeon holes while too independent; for Love cried, she needed more, if but the bone of the neck. such trenches such sound the block moves—so testicle so measured while nothing kept her faithful; a problem such an age since I was in high school. to ask for breath to learn to breathe so fueled so alphabetical so metric so unlimited. I lost him early a friend in dirt while most were elated; a maniac a psychopath, but too loyal—an acorn sided like favor, it was hell on his wife—a better me a better you, as alone in a box. chunk a sack plus a blunt while devastated by weak links; to know he told to see his signature to pretend in his luxury. we sound critiques, we size in mafias, but most couldn’t survive; to graduate to never escape to mix a potion.

 was it easy such as death the vacuum of the barrow? to lose to lie to realness to hang around while he came back with a mint. or walking halls the rooms open a little man on his third homicide. so messed in it so crazed in it, while nothing could love as loving himself.

we tried yoga we asked questions it was hell that mother became ashes. a gut-soul a deceased soul while they feuded over something found delicate. another doing life. she stands firm. to make love to a given sin.

so executed such whispers while the crowd is moving.

so sporadic so caprice a man sat in a puddle.

I see feelings I see pain a woman tried even harder. mommy so proud such an academic while it’s time. to make a move to believe in Jesus while too damn regulated. it was soon to darkness. I popped a pill. it was hell on his brains.

so confused so devastated while his heart swelled—to chunk out pores to suffocate on pavement where his face was liquid. eyes water or to know the fact, a friend played Russian Roulette; it was pain in skies; his face was for a closed beginning.

the scent of passion the terrace of forgiveness so lost about it.

it gets harder—mother loved a substance—pops turned the soul inside out.

we wrestle roaches we eat pork a fool just kicked-in the door.

mother pointing at me. the maniac looking. he turned around—a day later something took him!

I was a child so wild in rain, mother told life! I hit a cut such a mut while hell to cuffs. too many friends. I knew rules. but a few to win life!

father came. it was purgatory. pops was Catholic.     

14 Haunted Lines

 

I disappear into a long block I touch dissention—a box with feelings a casket with faces at a haunted chamber. a clump of pebbles a group of silence so internal such a scale—to weigh souls to weigh morals to determine ethics. so much mortar while souls die the vacuum of the vaccine. so accustomed while it’s wild the fret of some alienation. I see cedarchests as filled with clowns such sorrow in laughter—to taste nothing or legs tingling while depleted of mercy. flesh inside out bodies rotten in death the river is moving its whisper. so close we can’t feel so far we feel too much such dear secrets! the block is empty aside for kittens as to hear such sounds. the ages are critical a bible is flapping such pages seeming sanitized. the buildings are distant the feeling is murky upon a sudden whistle—too enveloped such a cocoon or far across tracks there’s a couch—a person of some sort, as evaporating with every step. grass is filthy oil is dripping trashcans are flipped over. such windows such fiberglass a maddened man in me. by memories to clear vats by sacrifice to alter personality while many are ruined in those boxes. surefire contempt as assigning souls to reprobation—too much to chase too little to render niceties while the past is haunting us. a toilet on a roof a pot with flowers or buildings with a strong stench.      

Innocent Intention or Failed River

 

dear Love, the pain is cultural, not hopeless, a bit unclean. those eyes with gestures, so strong but pained, such wrath in our antennas. such sensitive souls so beat internally while calm in our homes. I lost mother I lost daughter I lost me. I found me I located mother I have love in a daughter. but life is uncoordinated something is askew while genetics are overloaded—the wealth of the wound the lesion in groans so hectic so numb. my own tears as such strength to realize it felt cathartic. I sit in essence such refined stillness people gravitate in direction.    

we seem disconnected, while vigilant souls, upon a ribbon into voltage. so prepared so sad while we must all relocate—the rain of the octopus the teeth of the shark or the trunk of the forest.

so baptized so drenched in water while we debate holiness.

a feature of the brain or cursed while pleasant so shrill it turns by disbelief. or cultural so alive while silent into more beliefs. well together while wild together so polite to a designated soul.

I shift or chase or abandon my childhood tenets; so, there’s mother, a gorgeous creature, aside a muscular suitor. or there was father, as visiting for love, as walking away softly.

I contend for mercy I sin in trepidation I realize something in its silence.

I just buried ashes I just smoked a cigarette I just smothered emotion.

so much to relent so trailed in fury so disgusted by survival. such treatment such denial or partway into disbelief—those iris flowers these jamesia gates while most fiddle elephant weeds—by tumble of the giant by engaging leviathan or reservoirs into chambers.

I tipped the fish bowl. I laughed and scooped the fish. I ran, got water, and wondered as they couldn’t make it—for the water was a different temperature, it didn’t fit, it didn’t bring comfort. such is life, chasing winds, or strangling fire; if to find days, at a soothing temperature, if to locate mother in adolescence. but Love is mythic or sad or disappointed!   

Some Human Diary

 

it was late trauma early pain while he couldn’t pinpoint it. a child in eyes a man in skies so torn by disbelief; where chattering occurs or a nervous habit liking chewing nails. some nights such screaming the walls bleed the tragedy is rude. some melonberry or cake while it seems fixed—the abuse the language nor right in spirit—those fumes those rooms while repulsed such hives in his belly. a radical component a grown miracle while so guilty inside. eyes grinning minds winking as threshed for the curse—a harvest of flies a crop of disgusts or mornings looking at comas. late evening blues so removed as floating in a haze; our pictures such reddening dots such revealing habits. by ceiling to confined chaos. by angst or anger. by such paining love. or a stench aside a lie while negotiating perception. so fueled to form some belief. by welted warning by puppet deer those cries as if pain was cancelled. so oxymoronic. as same senses, different drills—to consider in silence, the habit as assaulting to imagine their problem, for people seemed to have attitudes.  

I hit a fence to hit a track so enlove with freedom. no one knows the lady in the hut while so engrossed. a grape soda an apple pie a bag of chips. to need beauty to climb ghosts while ignoring becomes a habit. to play like wobbling to laugh when alone while black kids are targets. a new garment an old omen while running is metaphorical. the thawing sun the blazing moon such dear constellations. our ethic opinions our challenge to anything, even if it makes sense. such specialties as mind-controlled, so systematic in our debates. so academic such a chase those mazes his child-soul. pupils dilated or huge buildings such billiards for a smile. so mastered so into flaming the ghosts in a soldier. but damaged or dreary or droning out existence. the knife to bark the soil to arc as so bare into his first arrival; so small so decent such a needy little fellow. if to resurrect fresh out of pine while gunning through backwoods. those weasels our wrath so wrangled into more trauma. oh mother’s cries, or father’s disappearance, so destined to say some human diary!                

Fire Came by Violence

 

such a loose cannon such sins in jazz such a wicked ass saxophone—to stir as it were some pain in its conduit. our jargon is splayed, or duty belongs to Buddhism, our tone belongs to our parents. so much its touch its rush its planet, soul, or unlocking—some key as it entered some lock as it snapped open.     a man spoke clearly     a psych would interpret     they would not slice indifference.     a doctor came by, a scissor was in his wit, he would leave as he came.     a woman spoke to a psychologist, she was forthcoming, the psych said, “I believe you’re alright.”     tears come with joy or radicalizing pain while so indiscernible to a novice.     the novel was leaking, it was wrought by errors, but enthusiasm covered its flaws.     the piano is sullen the violin is benighted the knight is at his horse: such calls to Our Lord, such phoning answered, while we have our Crusades.     a valley of bones a teal-green forgiveness the daughter has rescued her indivisibility.     it has rained for days we have died for years we’re appalled by all the murders.

veins into dialogue such pleasure in a connection while most negotiate demarcations—such pure witnesses while speaking kindly but most are intimidated by their feelings.     so seeming in direction, so synchronized, as hearing, “I was just thinking of you.” such a sinful race such an aesthetic voice while decency is often for ransom; so hypersensitive so hypervigilant when most are ignoring us.     (I saw his consciousness. he played an old viola. where I opted to ignore his essence. a psych in pain a soul in aches, he was interested in vetting what he would see.)     we can’t forget Hinduism, as in private literature, where many philosophies are indebted. the pain we commandeer, the futures we pilfer, or those anxieties we camouflage.     by transgression an entire family where granny stuck to roots—the voodoo of France the Christianity of Europe or the naturality of Africa. such an error by bread its manifestation how it evolved through tongues—as violence for control the penalty of nonchalance or by arrogance to take her soul.       

Unforgettable Woman

 

I would desire passion, a sick glass Pablo, to find while stumbling, a home in the Hills. so chocolate so petite too thin but life—the ghosts those waves as deep into Indian beauty. such happenstance so galore in shadows such poise at its doorposts. by vacuum by trust as if love surrenders, those aches those yelps while a man was losing senses. too elitist to evolved while so raunchy. the fire at camp the flame at furnace so much a dear friend. but a young man as rolling a beast or too many riches inside; too serious to dance too attached to chance while gorgeous moon needed aggression. I would admire passion, too sick with thunder, so quick to provoke, too silent to win. a need for confrontation a need for a man losing senses so uncured so provocative or existential to a fault. I adored its ingredients while pining over jam such buttocks too aesthetic for closure; such raw fluids such trickles of blood so scented it was hell to abandon. years into ridiculous so remote to a channel as a conduit in his psyche. too real to surrender such pain to remember while Love just had a child. I appear to me I appeal to society it becomes aggression—or grownup masculinity. but dear justice, such cupping breasts such grip for a man only seventeen at age. so quiet so silent while needing into a blue horizon. the rain as it wagers those odic fevers if but to imagine life without forethought; a woman’s scream her activity if but one would forget rules! true fierceness, as dying to possess, where Life become Jackie Collins! I would admire death, so dark into a windmill or so naked it felt like vulnerability. at age with violence at souls with contempt while to possess like the nastiest creation in cosmos. too rare in an instance or too giant in sequence as aborted into pure filth!         

Recollection or Recalls

 

by nine-year-old timpani of thresh

or fears rolled into glacier’s tongue,

souls at perdition pure boiled flesh,

by nine-year-old timpani of thresh.

as born of trials dear penitent death,

if but freedom we would have none:

by nine-year-old timpani of thresh

or fears rolled into glacier’s tongue.

 

the future is distinct such purgatorial trials or twine attached to our compasses. the deceit of the belief or leaves upon asphalt those legs walking near his flame. such dogwood or edge rock such sweet/sour wine. to have loved or to have spoiled where faucets drip honey. so decided upon a miracle while vying should feel normal. such a sensitive man such an adolescent, where more sends one into depression. as such in astrology a given sign while most souls distaste competition; just adore me as me only in a society promoting practicality. but Love is timpani or a soft understated cello or some piano hanging from a ceiling. such raw seduction such fiery heels so playful one forgets his reality.

 

the ransom is somewhat peculiar. most possess a combination. we tinker by form of guidance. indeed, a person will lead a suitor, or manipulate circumstance, in a game requiring picklocking. signs mean nothing, for Love is lethal, such grime, class, precision, and execution. to get into location to outline a heart in chalk or to renege by way of hiccups.

 

somewhat different in me such elegance while so wild. a man keeps balance until he loses balance while raving internally. a woman has a session, some spectacular episode, she enters the restroom, looks in the mirror and smiles. so much spitfire wittiness or political savvy at some position esteemed by officials. but a tear shall fall a pain will enter, for we need such excitement. a guy is notorious. many know his name as cad or a byword. but women seem to take interests. he has a feather. he plays guitar. he recites poetry. indeed, he specializes at some art—the favor of pleasing—he studies what women desire. they’re his musicality. he sways in them. he is not afraid to love.

 

I return to purgatory some life we debate some angle we can’t verify. but if pain is waiting, or pain is existence, we can’t discount the remedy of climaxes. a slingshot to a bottle, an hourglass to a prison. or the praise given for the labor of seduction. so, a person screams aloud, he tucks all of his files, in chase of something that offers not a grunion of promise.     

Each Stitch Unthreads Its Core

 

I grapple with silence as exchanged for loudness while father sinned so deeply—those dear pains those purest insanities where fire hits like rage—our curse our generational abandonment where many have seen justice. by baffled observer or irritability at a low point in development. a scribbled heartbeat, an odic explanation some thunder shot as time was closing. I watch sunset while disbelieving—someone we shore with: those deserving welts such funerals in passion, such an elegy for survival. torn disbelief. gritting teeth. so much gnashing at tender walls. those cuts in egos those bruises in spirits while sacrificed for bread crumbs; not a decent apology, not a sign of regret, or more anger for an acquisition was accurate. the flowers are observing they drain anxieties a man in his mother’s garden; so flippant inside, such contempt inside, while saying, “Yes Dear!” the future in its beliefs those skies unveiling or morning sun-dust occupying our universe. but a pantomime ghost but a surviving lover or such remorse those days it meant so much. eyes to a problem, where it had to exist, a person disgusted by another’s fortune. it reigns as true, so closed off, a person becomes hungry—for debt or damage or hell inside; the root of its forest those aches in its woods or reverberation in our concrete. a foolish existence so secure it hurts while one is softer on ambition—the fret of the bobcat the temple of the jaguar or sudden into a dragon’s mouth. to have lived in deceit to have given deceit where one questions their fabrication—that life in its riches those things we accumulate or such artificial reliance. as needing something inhuman something too critical—where participants are accountable for insanities. so much a jackknife or a jackal or a jingle; so much a padlock or a truer dimension or pangs like giving birth—the fury we undergo the underground we dig while soil coughs up ghosts. by reluctance to be as if that person in dreams where too much wealth spears hopes—for lusts prowl as if inside a cathedral such a firm need for impactive adoration.   

Faceless Investigation

 

to gnash or gnaw through wires become claws—to sing the unsung battle as it’s been intestinal for forty + years. by maze or raving for helplines some snare a parent wrought; in tears, and yes, it’s unfathomable to indict the one that cares; some aged sinning, some forbidden spigot, or some road crossing into graves. but a gnat to some where it’s existence to others, while we get someone to arbitrate: some clean vessel, some dependable/impartial person, someone we might believe in. by virtue we attend to scruples. by honesty we wail our concerns. and by breakthrough we fall into reaching arms.

I have felt cursed or bothered or racing against something pre-explained—some preordained entity, or complex, albeit, loveable irritants—those fingernails those knuckles those doors so jamb’d by unreasonable decisions.

            something’s pre-existent. something has horseback’d our DNA. but we seem faith-destined if to explain its source.

            upon dreamwood or rebuking cotton or truly analyzing our spines. some sweet message attached to some sweet essence in beliefs that seem too esoteric. some mystic face, some faceless race, while curved into a predicament: a handicapped resistance, a nauseated existence, while some seem quite insistent: a controlling force, a ruling rod, so comfortable at another’s displeasure.

            I have felt distance, as it’s required, if but to grip our precondition. some pre-analytic property, some electrifying ghost, or a person with access to our spheres. such existential gossamer such spider silk while we linger or while we watch. so few participants. many might exist silently. while some are intrusive.

            by aggression we show, or messages we denote, or spirits we summons. to enter a faceless man as struck by a faceless omen where two have negotiated. so gaunt at times so threshed regardless or so subtle it hasn’t registered.    

Atop A Broken Dryer

 

a violent sneeze or a violent climax so violent it feels more terrestrial. I spark a clove into midnight the beauty of the crocodile. so many coyotes while a man is wild but watching pathologies. I could never abuse or sense more trauma while alive an angle with an alligator. so underneath such a rug while candles speak to angels. pushing through minutia or famish upon a menu at some gate inside: those monsters or mother’s consciousness or father’s prayers. coldness in warmth or love in hatred or so distinct I realize an omen. such palatial skies too much for one country as refused for entrance.

we want for it to seem isolated, but Love performs, it never mattered once doors closed. some are so electric to reach a height as so addicted to one woman; the field as it bleeds those cotton balls screaming or such a filthy animal forced to digest. back to America such leniency while most souls feel suffocated.

our minds filled with waterweeds our hearts surfing through marsh, where most aren’t interested in correct thinking.

such was detriment so harmful while bent into a fence. to climb like tomorrow to slip down oils, to slam into dirt. a needle as we crawl, while halfway in, where walls clash down around us.

I felt handicapped or suffering an interior thief while headed into a hermit’s box.

many despise religiosity. we inquire into the why of the matter. it often shows a lack of investigation, some deeper influence, or such disdain for rules. but some are exquisite. they have solid points, where two merely walk away. I was told two things: never argue religiosity, and never debate politics. such fire in a soul such flavor in art while anti-anything becomes kitsch.

so flushed so despised while it was something, we call love.

upon a dragonfly or murmuring where we try to get a correlation. something to hold on to, some grounding in an abstract world, such deceit to alter a grade—to decide on life, that most are mean, because they haven’t acknowledged my soul.

so thrown such mercy where it would be quite easy—as to devastate or to unravel some thread made of some synthetic. our goals are different. I plan on mastering art. others might plan on mastering some mistake—those eyes losing filters those fabrics as inexpensive or life at some ultimate disgust: those behaviors those promises while they meant nothing as they were acted into existence. as mean souls such afflicted spirits where some childhood experience has ruled for over four decades. the pain we give, the hurt we continue, while raising our crops!

at a laundry mat looking at blandness to remember a city of lies. or to realize into helium—most, despite education, are arguing and acting and afflicting based upon deeper emotions: our opinions about humans, our classifications, while unwilling to sense manipulation. a man saw one, he retreated, but her course was set in cement. he acted stupid, he saw her eyes, she never relented—the grade was passed!

Uncultured Ocean (Triolet)

 

would exhaust dear rightness bitter or cold —

thrown to seas screaming by fiery hotline …

to bend into fierceness unwound or untold,

would exhaust dear rightness bitter or cold.

by sail or topping ship those mermaids bold —

immersed in flame by freezing blizzard or sign …

would exhaust dear rightness bitter or cold —

thrown to seas screaming by fiery hotline.           

Inside-Out Heartbeat

 

sooner than later while living his parable his allegory—such pollution into a soul while asking for normality those screams in mirrors those fragile witnesses while too much to contain.

            to strew inertia, so primal, to wonder of dinosaurs with depression. his story is told his recovery was untold our conversation was partially recorded. so listless those mornings such a tomb of dirges while lit into a rocket; decaf liquor renegotiated premises while sensing some ghost in its dis-clarity … as wild animals into foggy lenses weathered by behavioral sophistry; the ghetto as it dies those paths as aggressive our motion into atmospheres. by numbing interaction to abuse a child as needing that child to survive; our aging regrets our deceit as normality while most carry a level of shame. by values such ethical conversation while something is profound—the flight of the deer those snakes in a bundle or eyes with premises.

            by chasm gates by remorse for sins or too gone to have a conscience.

            the amore of sadness the gut of the alienated or walking some thin interior; too uncovered too removed where it must be pathology; for feelings are precipices or cliffs are rejuvenation as trees are blocking mountains. so much acumen but so partial as some make-believe identity. so near a lake, aside a sweatshirt, while a sunbeaten zinnia.

            our last beginning while it shouldn’t be hard but so averse to something inside.         

Christmas Is Different Now

 

I have less to say as more to assert where decency has been a long time coming. but trees are fresh or pine is redundant while souls continue to repeat our anxieties. by filmed rains to conduits of indecision such cryptic realities. to think by nuance such intimacy as we understand what intensity is; to know for tender surprise to laugh our thick masks such essence in a smile. anything but angst or anything but reality while aging becomes a project. 

the towerman is watching. some lady is screaming. she has lost her young.

I dismiss a piece of me. I just exit myself. it seems indecent to argue with a liar.

such a catapult or lacking feathers, such a hard crash.

but Christmas is upon us, such joy in waves, where true spirits are those innocent eyes. to laugh with glee, such overwhelming responsibility, where good days are cherished.

but adults recollect. we decorate memories. we coax a smile.

who would warn about nights in deliberation or sharing intimacies with some soul? everything so tender as dependent upon indecisions where I need us to play piano. to giggle or chance some dance in excellence. the beauty of the liar the soft body of the damsel or so delightful to outwit sullenness. those hours those glasses such the sound of opera. some orchestra softer as sacred or cursed for deeper frets. too alive when it struck, so damaged when it settled, while vying to rewind those tears. such salty droplets such rare repentance as speaking the soul’s dialogue.

I assert something casual, something insignificant shall ruin the unthinking soul. or a sullen secret as years between conduits where it’s hard to rekindle the innocence. we register probability in a world so with needs while essence is new until it settles. those interior baskets or darker realism but it was nice while I cherished our glory.

I assert friendship will be with shadows or trapeze wires or shaded moons. the angle of its soul those chandeliers just pausing; such rich beginnings with so few hours while we wager our eternity. to need magic in an a-magical world while fey seems so remarkable.     

The Last Autopsy

 

the blue moon as opposed to beige so white so gray—to miss time to recalculate fire such raw sullenness so hectic by misery—the kiss it devastated those marks as screams while a man reminisces on blues. a fireball a flame a film in me; the gut as it ran those hazes as they blurred so soft so gentle while dragging out aggression; to mock a soul to hold God in derision to misunderstand anything breathing. a cup of blackwater for a bride in green apparel so red in strict cutting denial. the blood mother shed the father that got ghost or some ghetto kid in his misprints. those psychiatrists those sociologists while a hunch might be into its mirror. so fueled in rain such oil in whales so much three harpoons. the brief as mágoa the tender bruise while a man never met his wife—and she never met him! so damaged where it comes by consensus; so threatened when it comes to righteousness. as a man bled a mother cried while father was set to slam. our holidays in grips our minds in tipsiness or our ships crashing on pavement. so dear to a man so close to his heart while we renegotiate our terms. a knee in mahogany a knife in ebony or a porcelain fever as it was meant for parish. to gravel iron to shore the winds so rich in something most dismiss. a man bled so cloven asunder where he awoken screaming in darkened sweat. the filth as I become the battle as I collapse or God’s tears in my liquor. such a swampy stampede those eyes as they croak such a cut in a man’s intestines. to adore a dewdrop to rewrite a booklet so digitized as a fool; the mouth as it yells the heart as it swooshes or the brain in deeper awareness; those subtle pricks those inkprints while a soul somber in his execution—those pictographs as a spirit flew such dear communication. by bluegrass roots by folksy grains while a man is like unleavened wheat. to drink so rough to heal upon a couch a man was wounded. such dear position such thunder in our skies while I ran to take the Eucharist. such inexact molten lava. some critical fable. while so many watch feeling weary, with tales to shock our last pathologist.

So Kneaded So Knotted

 

by willow such billowing sand too wistful to miss it. holidays are our humor our desert our perseverance. mother might cry, over a potted meal, such thoughts of years passed. a soft concerto or ghetto genius some mixture making sunshine. by cirrus fire by ornamental skies some hunch as it plays piano. near cottonwood or sung gently some chorus such tenderness. upon a triolet some neat message while over yonder essence is traveling. a subtle swoosh some spirit wand while we sizzle in wilderness. so unboxed so airborne too much a public furnace. by debt of beauty by too gorgeous to sing where heaven sounds enchanting. a freesia audience a plexiglass divider or a deinstalled friendship; so ruthless as gloom settles where it hurts so little we rejoice. 

so overborne such taupe eyes so much wisdom in our beliefs. upon lunarias or iris gardens such haunted houses. a trail into wild oak or oils spilt on pavement, too much to clean. a sink in a field a car missing doors or a train at 2 a.m. to watch intently, as if something is new, so untired with something to travail over.

some took a knee, or tradition was challenged, as to realize its symbolization. some critique on our values, or some dinner in our spirits, while minds are mauled by pit bulls. but pain is our issue, it lingers softly, it might induce one to soar.

by heat in hearts to feel comfort while one might not approve of us. medieval genetics or part souls running, so kneaded so knotted.  

If You Met A Maniac, There Would Be Little Deliberation

 

the color of flame those tears dripping acid some curse forced into us. the seas as pure blood those mountains as full patience to arrive so early I was noticed. I lied to interior but it didn’t stick, I was lonely and curbside—the vicious mother or the peaceful mother while so fretted into a coma. the veins screaming the nose bleeding the liquor at his liver; so weak I feel, so dead in silence, some bucket filled with vomit. a friend died, another snitched, another tried something while it had to matter: so cold and raw so indifferent with life hanging by a thread. essence into timbre or tone into traffic while yelling never meant much. where Love is lethal some incredible machine while too sensitive to feel balanced. I asked for salvation so lost in aches while salvation is daily repentance; no one sees this, something given, while it’s temperamental; such tears to cleanse such raging repentance while a soul is an anarchist—such a watchword such dear deliverance or so rageful those oceans flooded.     it struck, it had control, another was jealous. I laughed but danger was near—it was time to attack. I walked yonder while filled with venom if but your mind on my Christ; so territorial so treacherous while he loved God so much, he began a killing spree; the voice they fear, the imbalance they loathe, where many will be inside you chancing notice! such brushwork those years at silence while it was security stripped. try to see, for it comes with pain, to know a person can walk into you. indeed, he must be mad. he must be looped. but I tell you something, they’re hiding. nevertheless. the moon is grieving the sun is crying and those stars are happy. at some cretin or some animal while they cage us all the same. at a sequoia upon a feeling or disgraced by his wants. to need sexual delights or to adore the poetess where rain is crashing.              I would spare you those gory details into a walking coffin; as it would scare you, some human, so evil it pours out of his pores. to meet a real maniac, as opposed to tendencies, where we have long surpassed features. black-blue buildings. untired vengeance. or untangled morals! 

16 Memories As They Blur

 

so much in flux the shame of mother or the rain as it never disappears—the volume of insanity those courage chains while father just returned; a gut needs seeds a ground needs water or soil requires minerals. tears from bones marrow in essence or cartilage in a person’s mouth; to rest in the underbelly as designed to live an underdog while a psych might see arrogance; the blood on the shore those seaweeds made riches those ghosts never reaching that island. in vanity to utter so much a tender slither of love; but amateurs now to feel such musicality as one croaking to adore. by sunbird upon a leaf or boundaries in a curse or anarchy in its vice—the tyranny of such fire to have arrived while losing if but the baptism of her anxieties; a rough patch a dear meaning while society dies for ideograms. such purpose in survival such push in forgiveness where one was interior prior to The Great Swoosh!

            we teeter on breakthroughs so tethered to sacrifice where she never tried harder—those eyes piercing those tiles laughing where one says he’s anti-human—some creature some immovable ghost while many live in an asylum: deep alcohol deeper inventions such stench in its living quarters. or minds attached to silence such victimization or too close to pass a lie. such useless elements or but one dimension such paradox to wonder about curiosity; some purple feeling so strange its arrival, when a soul is too distinguished to feel noticed.

Contradiction Gives Life (Triolet)

 

I would to see such hurting honesty;

if destroyed I know violence so sweet;

as death is syrup or hyssop so tensely.

I would to see such hurting honesty

in grays unbent by struggle so nicely;

while re-spent or born newly a Geek.

I would to see such hurting honesty;

if destroyed I know violence so sweet.

If Only Forgiveness Meant Forgetting

 

there’s a downpour the rain is raging such soft/wretched regrets. there’s a pouch so filled so inflated while people use us. I have tasted sea salt, reaching depth those weeds, too frozen to repent. the death of the adolescent the molested child or memories blended into wishful thinking; as erasing hardwood or fire-metal as a soul disenchanted. I have forgiven what I can’t forget. where thoughts generate numbness, while one assists another on pure understanding. it was irregular to meet her. she used to live as sawdust. she speaks so clearly concerning roots. a man is sullen or walking his bridge where he ignores his calculations; for what changes—in dear fatigue—while it remains as it’s fulfillments? 

we tailor our lives, or we seem to ignore our lives, where we complain in essence. 

so benthic our souls such early lessens while most eyes are satellites. I roamed alleys traveled fields as stray animals followed a far distance; so many dressers as counting drawers where anything seemed interesting. I pitched rocks as breaking mirrors accumulating three lifetimes of curses. our superstitions our fairytales our interior misprints. a soul at wit’s end, but far too young, where he missed school to watch closer. 

the wheat is filled with yeast, we must watch the yeast, while majority are inflated with yeast—uncured pursuers or relaxed citizens while most of us are targets. so confusing, as never a glance, into something proving its authenticity.    

I was enwoven while orientated to sense where screws are rusty—those unscrewed bolts those nails slipshod or hatchets following us with neediness. 

a man is inconsiderate a woman might be vicious or we see two have gone through deep healing.

Unwelcome The Message

 

something is a light matter, a person’s mental sphere, when accusations are drawn. we believe in disbelief. a person wouldn’t do that. until it seems we bring accusations. permit a look into a woman’s eyes such sundew vaper falling upon concrete. a mélange of feelings or ecstasies as creative dismissal, it isn’t relevant! by sunshine evidence to avert our senses while one says, “Just lie to yourself.” but so much as lost such pain in clocks where anyone is something fairer. the drosera petals those zinnia foretellers or jamesias laughing in anguish. so deceitful to senses if but to disbelieve where others are curious; for it’s more than rumors it’s a face speaking, it giggles over causing division. a person can’t whistle a person can’t eat some sweet justice as its qualification. or a gaslight situation, to bend a person, where one dis-armors their sanity.

such odic vacillation or pure contradiction to love as if nothing has changed.

our idyllic balls our rolling senses while so demeaned by our reality; such bedded understanding such giving where it aches or uncursed but falling. by math of dimensions or metal to cotton where hickory may draw a scream. so inside of us so outside of life so estranged from our sensories; by freedom to collapse by ropes to hang where a person remains steadfast; as if he hates self, or needs pain, while Covid-19 means, I love to much to escape. 

shod in uneasiness. it’s difficult inside. a person might become complacent.

those skies those days where beauty seems so infected; as a tyrant by freedom where we need freedom while nothing might manumit the soul.