it measures a blizzard, attempting to readjust, palming hopes, circumstance, or image. so dear to soil or so vexed by root, to see a stranger in your mirror. by oaken wires as seized inside such mental abrasions. interior dialogue as it contradicts those messages seeping by evaluation. nothing in us feels complete. we possess certain talents. but chaos seems like nectar. our taste is sour our breeze is crucial where reasoning doesn’t deplete our reality. I haven’t one platitude. I sense seas have terrorized you. while tyranny is an interior whispering.
I
care more in pain as it grows to know feelings are amuck.
you feel threatened by mental culture, as sorrow comes by force. such negligence it seems, such dark headers, where a title is cutting into marrow. such unforeseen happenings, by some serpent, where rites seem indifferent. it wasn’t by fault, some defaulted misery, while excellence is feeling at oil; some slippery dimension some impervious ghost where resistance proves a lack of control.
you’re not alone — while it denotes comfort, it fails to meet you where you’re assigned. something comes as an omen, it serves as a giant, with such tense abrasion. but inking of the whisper or days in some jungle or years repeating sameness of mantra. to live as a soul to wrestle our bear or to understand our cycle.
so much a feeling, as it settles, where essence prevails: the strength or the bull, those wars as simmering or a pear upon a gentle evening while surrounded by something haphazard. I close with love as shot through moons afar a county into city expansion.
