I was
at a rocket soft into unholiness such robbery such trials. a feeling in a
hospital as dreamt of perfection while a man is wild over hunches. a bit paranoid,
but not then, while one disclosure disposes a soul to dungeons. an oaken Cross
to bear my weight as adaptive or delusional. so much these years, as wondering,
if hell is existence. a state of mind he said, but what about closeness, I often
feel like them. a banner in seas a scream in skies so abused it felt normal. at
the nave of its navel, addicted to her scent, so withered from her praise. a
deadman at tears while too masculine to utter defeat. a point by breakage a
film inside where it seems too delicate. a bit numb and looking while a person
will play the lute; to hate sentience, to admonish greatness, or to pretend
they never heard the bass. turnstone faces or triggered friction while tired
those fractions. so abased like reliving if but those pianos; to feature a
dream to model an art where most people are want to ignore you.
the plaint the pelt the freeway. at
a distance, while I watch you, it seems a bit dreary: those pictures as
memories as listening to one with true cries. a lying maniac a lying fool, even
lying where souls are wide awake. it never stops it moves forward with screams
in shadows.
I would praise Passion so unfiltered
inside but life kept kicking cans.
so dear to believe. so happy he
loves you. so selfish to ignore it all.
a feud in a horn a saxophone in a drum
a heart in another heart.
the pain was its curse. the feeling
while they search. if but to reduce one a little lower. or so charged to love
one, like a promise from oceans, at a dear riddle. a weft in weaving a kit in
mechanics where we see as we wish to; so deep those years. every man needed
you. we soon regroup. but one was silent. he paid attention. he wanted you – as
more a wife, he ignored the past, he put in for ownership.
I admire him. for sex is not love.
where two come together and have children.
