the
complaint is obvious those damages hurtful where everything is wrong. an inner
voicebox a pair of binoculars or ravished so treated it becomes trauma. so
close to a message as an engine rebuilt while it purrs like newness.
manufactured identity a key to survival, if but we knew what others perceive.
awakened to delicious appetites a fair rumination at aesthetics in such
bewilderment; those cash prizes or how we hate ourselves where filth feels
comfy. a mistake in glory a body in misery as tears fall during climax. a
weasel in sheep’s clothing or an innocent out-of-towner, while it seemed so
straightforward. but life is angles or history was hangers if but to know
great-great grandparents. (it wasn’t long ago. each has a space. while
differences are easier to identify.) the festoon is addiction those cultic
habits so sincere about living. you never knew me. I noticed while watching. as
so dictated by inheritance. it’s not merely essence, nor a habit, it has become
traits and characteristics. it harbors resentments it harbors attractions it
has a hard place for itself. an inner image outsoars reality while a person is
still dying. a riot of trumpets a dear mistake while they’ve become numerous.
so much to be normal, as according to normal, while it means being included; as
to locate truisms, to disagree and ousted, or reminded by color of femininity.
sunrise mythical or orchestra our
lives as souls given to existence. (I get worried about people. it seems such
hurt without recourse. I wonder now why Love so strong willed.)
siphoned so early, those natural
tendencies killed, while I feel a bit thankful. exactly, a weird
interpretation, but have you seen the myriad reasons to feel like emptiness? I
wrestle with ghosts. I disagree with humans. it seems so unnecessary – but we
give it life.
