would we lie or release truth where omission might help to win? we would deal those roads as asphalt betrayed its kisses. so impure or so sincere in a state hurting its ribs. to grow in anguish searching for authenticity while some behaviors are unforgiveable. some soul cotillion a room papered in mirrors, as watching, as faces respond, a split second before words are formed. mad or pictureless, established or invisible, at home or in a comic? we chopped celery minced garlic, she was silent. the years were failing us. our pouty lips disappeared. her love is sustained in denial.
often, we fear alone pain. we make symmetry. while we carry a few miseries. we can’t resist the song such flame while a family becomes slavery. so reclaimed such a normal person, while addictions always need more.
such fast living such a catacomb of violence where something kosher might not work.
so detached such a shoebill where a man has become a caiman. it gets silence such sensitivities without all coming in its cargo. the exile of the lover the melancholy of the damsel while it requires more than one can give. sure excellence our road to Santiago where we took a detour.
we had solemnity or subliminal space in a time we needed a witness; to see pensiveness to redeem imperfection while we soon settle into ourselves. it just is. it will not change. someone will understand.
snippets of disgust. marvelous sessions. a home too lonely to remain honest.
a bottle of château a freezer of arête a morning moving in quickness. a soul finds you they love you they’ve never met you.
stuff to do. a door to knock upon. we wonder about bachelorettes – or see pain in bachelors – or possibly both. softer sunshine upon darkening skies so much dread to answer a question. certain despair at some island but one was ever so clean. to reappear to the negation of anything put forth.
in-itself,
it has properties, both for it and against it, how will days flourish?
