by tufts
of tolerance, or twining drugs, a bit of fire those winds. those dying roses to
symbolize injustice as telling its series. by picture of prurience where most
need beauty. (I have lived shortly unknitted, unstitched, reknitted, or
restitched.) wrongs were taught. days were autonomy. while we adore pliability.
so weak at strength, so strong at weakness, reburied, refurbished, with mutation
kicking its carcass. our most antagonism as losing protagonists such silence
where conformed. those backwater woods a tweet into orbs a lively living portrait.
so close to change too far to rebuke or some perpendicular anxiety. those
metric, or thetic cries, too much debris. one might be careful, for
word-of-mouth is vicious, while relocation — rumors follow! too untaught too
much emotion while suppressing a petit monster: he embalms such bulky torso, our
evenings are interesting! a banshee yelled at me, we discussed hauntings, she
gave me her chains.
I have thought deeply, meandering
alleys, routinely at some impasse. our ways are troubling. our gray-matter is
horrific. there’s duality in us. to adore as fixated to grab like rioting or to
come to heart-range. some shooting gallery some machine in us, while we love
landscapes.
I re-covet some larger vanity as one
aborted to trashbins. hours are cognition or a cigarette too often, such bodies
show elements: tattoos as sagas or talisman as transparent while I can’t decode
initial meetings — some angst perhaps, some intellect at assessments perhaps,
or color is doing its number on us.
too invested for playmates or too
uninvested for endlessness where most are unsteady. such belief in cosmos or
vetted personality while thunder might break.
