upon a woodwind so welted inside in much heaviness. such heaving over hurdles those sweet and sour bars. upon a harpsichord at havens such delicious fruits; those interior decors our nights playing messages or tender into a woman with disgrace; our channeled hearts, our voltage in vengeance our succession into villains. a bit saturnine or a bit even while bipolar means fight or flight, fear or excitement. upon a ukulele in some tavern—we remember our Sufis. upon Aquila into several constellations, we sense our philosophies. (so marvelous in times so skeptical in heart such harking to decode its war-clause. our melodica aches as avatars or existential cartoons; the bride of the monster, or innocence subdued in torture, we realize something about humans.)
the
motive is its riddle those dear mechanics—why have we selected compassion?
upon Sirius as a star or pictures in a vase such sugar to warm cold hemispheres; or ethics as they chuckle to laugh by way of vulgarness—the majesty of double planets, the industry of double spirits, or the paradox of deeper dejection.
upon Venus as into reality while undercurrents are chemical. we voice our choices as plagued by our desires where dear confusion becomes visceral.
a person will adore you. it will be inevitable. it hurts that we soon depart—as unlatched skies or unrevealed dreams while too much input becomes volcanic—certain pride as to burgeon or many facts in arms or beauty so early it glows. if but clarity in human conundrums while most are surfing ambiguity: those elephant tusks, or unphysical compassion, when invited to her first cotillion.
