I say prayer, seep into ink, become the nib of a pen. so lonely at times such seconds misperceived while begging seems human; our plea to invisibility our want for homelife such needs all jumbled together. I say prayer, head into atmosphere, trying to reach a given space. low blows, I sense something, it’s funny to outwit each other. bags on concrete deaths in regions a wolf internal – as re-caged such a graduation while we switch fences. a little to drink a daily habit or a can of energy.
many need to know, it seems different, how many hearts bankrupt? searching sweet blues or sweeter jazz so alive a bit irritated. something nudging something impatient while seeing folks is harder. we’ve evolved like prey adjusts where a tail might snap off. green feelings as in innocence—when was it lost? rain falls I think to what I see, but it’s plain to say a Love is pained. so obvious such facts—we tire of those asking for courage. so untiring to breathe so untiring to love while we know tiring-out is problematic. such brashness in chains while adoring sky heights.
I was thinking inside I was gunning inside I smoked a half pack inside. to need something, it might be given, while it takes deep investment. to see sophistication, something done often, it now seems brand new. that side we hide because so vulnerable or pleased to say, “I can trust you.”
someone hast to win while someone must lose while we need a middle ground; for Love tries as it aches where music is hurtful. digging into planets so removed from life maybe a pill to readjust.
it sounds crazy a place in self, such happy morosity. so close to a dungeon so bathed in fears while no one is overly close; the mat is black those keys elusive while pain becomes effusive; a light blinking a cure for warriors as in more warriors. an audience in fever an apostolic being so engraved in colors – such deceit in self such abuse in time while we still trek harder. to have burned many, while seeking love, to find one that doesn’t mind the abuse. so ironic, as falling enlove where one fights to maintain a victim.
like
lashes to a leaf or a noose to a dream while often we feel insecure. but big
apples a chunk as ours a pie fresh from its oven. a chamber in history to ask a
question, “Why so many filled with complaints?”
I must
be honest, albeit, I wonder, does one change or another
brings out divinity?
