Often, We Just Watch!

 

I would need you as in some trance it was quite unreasonable. I would abate soul in harness of spirit but nothing was booming. I was underdeveloped or arrested by ideals at fate’s gates. the sheer terror if ever to love insomuch as ever to die. true indecisiveness as an animal faced by intruders or a lone lion faced by nine hyenas. bites to his back fangs dripping saliva or sudden to escape, running vehemently. sure poison in me or sheer extraterrestrial fire something we’ve not decoded. but the fear of it as it must be detoured, we know it has thought patterns: certain irritability, uncertain controlling vices, or a medallion seated in sullenness; as to erupt into its being or to multiply images a countenance blue, weary, and attractive.

            we might if it were illegal where an interior heist has become mobile. I would to know myself, if interlocked caving into sentimentality as a soul uncaged singing its birdsong. much in flame aside a hut with Zen Buddhists drawing little whispers.

            I swallowed a camel. I badgered a gnat. but I forgot to chastise myself. I was snared from within, it protruded its substance, it was found in my actions, my memories, my face. it decided tastebuds it sought poly-adventures it suddenly disappeared—leaving an offshoot of its personality. I was grogged inside sure powerful influence I wrestled like encoded sutras. I was left with an attachment an aid or better to the point, something to teach, something to mentor.

            but I would if it meant joy for happiness becomes an eternal chase—as reopened or closed without permission or a.m. silence listening to thoughts. a morning greeting trying dearly, but it aches to sense you; to know your island to see so many soldiers as they guard something reborn to loneliness. or it strikes as happiness, it pushes behavior, it tampers then with its whisk.  

Eating Sugar Water

 

I song into a dungeon I eat wires I feel like adjusted—into disparaging self as so derelict or some shelter with souls harvesting, scavenging, or ruining something intangible. mighty into a storm, absolved in facts, so much to feel myself. a flat machine or hyper or sad—those cadent spirals those silken webs, I’ve been on hiatus for some grime. so addicted to losing you so found in winning you while I wonder if essence is more important. our brains making connections our thighs sweating while I needed someone to believe in; those days were ripe the fillings were suitable at some market for spirits. I abandoned us I repicked us I rethought us—like deep problems as we can’t escape with miracles seeming to involve us. lakes are filthy but ducks or swans land for suffrage. rights to earnings or antiquity to mourning such antebellum ideals. how in hell Jim Crow with pain rushing to imagine what ethnicity is up against walls—but we let go we soar with lyrics we dine on riches. as meant to love you where I couldn’t love self, you preferred my lies—as dynasty driven such sophistication while harboring a sexual liaison. so much it hurts. I became pragmatic. I offered an open relationship. instead of dying like a child begging for one to ignore her actions; such rhythm in us such acceptance for weakness where no one understands. by dooms or electrons a soul has vacancies; by root into diamonds it cuts to haven you. if miracles we evoke if energy we seize, but a moment in a faceless chime. I was want for her allergy her distinguished pain as some creature becoming human. I projected kindness. I projected great love sessions. and I projected she would come to me first. such bleeding in turmoil such days at graces where you understood enough to wash miseries asunder.     

The Broom Started Sweeping

 

the dynamic of souls or penchants into energies or life-vacuums. such power in a person such dice to bend at thoughts clearly futuristic. a cave in its mind or electrons in fireballs so angelized into perception. over anguish in a dynasty too fluidly beautiful.

            we need more fire such dark deserts as souls slumped into dependence. too much by walls too sincere to danger as a creature we might understand. such excellence sure into a typhoon if but one more second!

            the debt of the cyclone the avalanche of the phoenix such numen appetites. to wonder a clear fact, to those with more thought, to those with more sorrow.

            by moonbird or mocking-tiger, so pearl in antiquity—to sit closeness as arriving early such patience in eyes screaming details. it was a countenance. I thought she was in pain. I know now she handles her agonies.

            so curt at once, so baffled at twice, while it has been clear deception.

            I could never love you, not as an intimate creature, looking at all those casualties.

            it was admiration without full thought into the monsters the genius becomes.

            early at practice, so cold in the city, jogging many miles. to sense a tail in a lion where moves become calculated. looking at myself, running faster, I must maneuver. the dream is hectic the ladder is sudden I sat next to a violin. I knew how to play I knew how to piano it was hell into awakening.

            you were a miracle to souls needing forgiveness in a time needing a savior. people were dying of leprosy women were dying of harlotry while we sense something familiar. belief was like candy or magicians were like gods or gathering was like living. so cursed at a tree so despised as a seer where blood is drained from its carcass. but first to touch holiness but last to believe while holes seem the religion.

            I haven’t an aim. I haven’t an agenda. as one sentenced to repeat what killed a soul.    

16 Sentences: A Pain or Ocean

 

logic seems choppy. intuition is charged by vases, hairpins, or porcelain handicaps. wanted normality but it seems painful where anything else is envied. we need an entrance, if cut off, we attack. but I’ve been low, morose, a quickbook into a calcified cave. many binoculars upon me, a few rooting for achievements, others judging, or disputing mirrors, thus, distasting of others. it seems weird to smile, some damage in me, but what are we giggling about? many understand, they perform by radiance, they make it look easy. nevertheless, the porch is dusty, the perch is filthy, the pride is struggling to maintain. I need to improve me—the alien in the glass—where I count articles. I want to feel a certain way. I need those stars. indeed. one was herself, such passionate pride we take. it gets uneasy, helpless malaise, to look and see everything. but we shadow ourselves, we pantomime our worries, we become landscapes. such a resentful person or a sage as facing normal emotions—with little reach as filled with hostility in a way that’s alarming. a man of prose is a lone wolf, a woman of poetry-proper is a sad woman, and a novelist is too advanced to explain. as needing to skate or shine or study or all the above. our planet hearts, our hut brains, while helping becomes an inclusive project. but it’s been hectic, while one could bring a smile, but what have I given! logic seems choppy. intention seems choppy. often, we don’t know until it’s been done. I capture resolve, it’s a scream, I will carry what I have done—nothing more!    

Indict The Phoenix

 

the gallon was gone those arts were amusing thus pain is alphabetical. I wake up early such softness in devotion sure-framed experience. so realistic inside such frost inside a soul as a contrarian. an axiom for Love such strain for Beloved at a component striking its disappointments. such shapeless metaphysics such rootless discontent where one is hell-strung. houses burning or debate fierce such rawness in front of kids. so much wonder as to where it originated while we just shattered reflection. born to wreckage as in itself where we wonder what others are fighting against: more money, more materialistic items, why so sick over a peon?     eating seagrass or wiggling harshly at some point it becomes obvious—a man was forced into humility!    

it was wider rooms a body meshed like monsters an attitude where we owe essence. a soul has been wrung or repainted as left for dead. no one was listening it was sure independence until a softer, unprepared, innocent soul asked for his resume. those miles in Indonesia those cuffs in alcohol or pills meant for professionals. so medicinal so disliked while it becomes numb horizons.

a storage of sawdust a farmhouse of alienation with an image made existential. nicknamed Sisyphus or reclaiming dignity while most have sunk into a minefield; bright brimming lights some experience with much to suggest about lonely suffering. a den of hyenas such radical laughing with teeth aching for fluoride. some ebbing debt, or because I’m here, thus, kiss more of those regions.     we don’t earn it anymore. we have no respect for that. it’s simply because of title or status.

a raven sunk into a smokestack a phoenix just left by sunbird as leaping into havocs. sheer abuse with nothing to say, plus, unapologetic.      

Examining Epistemology & What It Means To Feel Human

 

We sense a chasm between what is suggested as truth verses what defines itself as obvious truth. We dispel aphorisms or platitudes in a sense we are chasing something explicit in our inner sanctum. There is a risk to happiness in a world cancelling out truths, in return for what we call false pleasantries. It is in screams of drums or expatiating because it hurts or trying to decode what another has become to us. Most importantly, we desire clarity, as to delineate our truths, our beliefs, where too much is taken for granted. The boots of depression as seated at solace where too much warfare has unrooted a false tenacity. We speak of knowing what we claim in such a way it cannot be unfastened. We tread a dangerous terrain, capable of ruining friendships, where reality is not a priority. Chained to essence, experiencing essence, but only accepted by others with sameness of experience. We speak to Epistemology—a position remaining skeptic, asserting that most claims are circular, meaning, the first premise supports all premises, as returning during debate to its initial premise. We have seen claims where a first cause is supported or necessary or sufficient in itself; it defines itself; its root is in itself—with no need of infinite regression. Some rely on this. Others deny its validity. While most arguments begin with a self-supporting premise, or at minimal, a premise we initially take as being truth, like fact, in order to even entertain the claim thereof. What happens when belief is indicted or embossments are challenged, or a person says it plainly, “There is nothing supporting those systems of beliefs.” We see something vague, like a need to survive, while pitted in a hole trying to reclaim everything that was refuted. A person becomes hopeless, filled with despair, a lonely person holding to what others find as infantile. Or a person becomes a debater, ruined by its profession, where its act sustains, offering fire in its anger. Something delicate is on trial. A question is posed: Must I have a detailed explanation, or a series of facts for each belief—must I live a rigorous factfinding life?    

Defrosting Static Ice

 

the wrinkles in fire as trying to unlove you in such a way I need you. like a cactus in its storm or dust piling high where humans become filmmakers. sure flame into dusk as skies flood hemispheres. beneath a polygraph as pledging love so alive in despair. but raw interior but monster instincts where two are controlling inevitability. so smothered by fantasies so indebted without reasoning while a person has virtually done nothing. so measured so intimate while life just floats between friends. by matrix into fury while we need to own you—as for comfort as for dance while existence is so uncertain. to imagine love is different than to experience love while I need of you as incredibility. so unedited, thus, raw, as trying to gain courage to ask for forever. a sentimental soul, where it reigns untrue, by notion to disbelieve in feelings. but a blackstory in a blackpond in a city of blackfolks. so much freedom while given to persist in a land misperceiving its inhabitants.

            some tigersnake alongside crystalcores it behooves to walk away.

            I try to fathom if disappearing what’s required to adore you. as timing is unhappy where it doesn’t matter, for others always survive a dream they sold. so casual at panic while interior is set aflame—those conscience decisions where ethics probe, but only a mind in its exposition; those meditated arts such ruing in essence such lack of definitive; so sullen inside a sickroom with measures too aloof; if but to relate if but eternity while so interested in soulfire.

            I tried to edit you. like a newcomer to an established project. I tried to think as you, where I summons the best of you, but you might not want to give that. I tried to in-watt you like fever coming back, but there’s a secret in you. I walk to amusements or reminisce on museums, as far too ill-equipped to keep you. it requires assistance, it requires deep help, or a person just sits waiting to be entertained. earlobes churn as burning gently such fuel to an imagination.

            I have pined inside for inevitability like meeting in perfect ambience. such strobe lights or eyes glistening such a spark as a glint. brains made of promises or decisions made by intentions where one says something speaking a different river. as gutted souls in gutted aches so much to a gutted invisibility.                       

Axiomatic Actions Determining Happiness

 

In its indifference it has come to hurt the lights as they fire the pain as it exhausts. We argue concerning postulates or sorrow over vocalization endorsing our claims on happiness. The greatest good to the greatest number of people; the greatest happiness as it decides appropriate actions; while disputation is easy to correlate. We desire joys or better happiness, where cherubs play our violins. Notwithstanding, an issue is at hand, where in order to please the majority, we must alienate what is too seen as another group labelled majority. We dismiss as disavowed those in their dungeon. We never come to their aid, as dislodged creatures valuing a petit segment its happiness. If one is damaged to ensure happiness for a bigger group, we condone this as good actions. Around the corner, up the block, in a rusty cave, we see something different. Consequences are posed as inconsequential—where if actions must remain honest than consequences are not priority—they are in fact, amelodic, as they have no color, they do not affect the interior agent, what remains as true is, honesty, despite its tendency to cause pain. A person will find philosophy endorsing his mentality inside rules where reality is the philosophy. The philosophy is not judged, for it concerns predisposition, insomuch as, a person needs to believe is his actions. One might omit information, where unsaid information would dissuade a person, but if he has determined it promotes better good over bad, then omission becomes a necessary component to its functionality. We have arrived at an axiom. If one might determine good by perspective, better than bad by actuality, one is justified in his actions. We posit another axiom. An action is not determined by a singular person, but rather, a group of trained inquisitors. This is goodness. It is monitored. But independent qualification is an actual goal: to become self-sufficient, to act as an autonomous person, to make approved induction followed by deduction. We, nevertheless, fail to decode nor define a legitimate, fail proof system to determine good actions aside from trained intuition.              

Genetic Vein Graphs

 

tobacco crops aside a memory as lost in genetics. born with identity upon a blank canvas, it isn’t correct. looking at fantastic becomes inviting while we hassle over familiarity. by an inner nemesis as one grinds crystals or eats glass so much prevention. I was complaisant or understudied while true love requires maintenance. a meerkat as a gift or sweet wine with whispers or everything I couldn’t remember. scented essence as reexplained where unveiling has become an issue. by a need to feel wavy or chiming carefully with passion in each arm. like tablets meant for you, such others wanting privilege, but Gentiles aren’t civilized. a mind filled with loses while it controls like so close but no cigar. a collar or a cellar a miracle or fate so late at arriving. too open to challenge too terrific to ignore such either for or against ego. 

cotton crops as in our lineage as to wonder about our inheritance. but she dances like perfect weather so addicted to our imagery. a brochure on matters a notebook on rights while many are enraged. papers over our couches, bodies atop papers, it feels so electronic. so much a demand or so much a requirement, where eyes are too many to misbehave. a seabird has flown we followed to an escape aside trashbins filled with cooked products. 

silk worms are every at pride such luxury in nature by draft to sense a problem.

 

if I confess a weakness, will you see it as a strength? if I get bold, is that disrespect, or affectation? we pride genetics while misunderstood, those lights keep flickering. it becomes a design our comforts our abandonments our security. to work at closure to become caring, sensitive, receptive humans. as many at recoveries – from life, happenstance or both. arrested by agony such anguished beauty where bringing goodness reveals stressors. trying in one direction, such another pops up, like miles into a jungle. waking to walk looking at chameleons or sudden into illusion. those hills just watching those daunting mountains or deciding that one is enough.

 

so much a need to overwhelm a box or break into chances. like old information or indirect clichés or politeness we grow into. interior tapes or CDs while miseries tend to make agendas. a few snippets of courage but seeming enough as to approach a difficult discussion. where wild in session or scratching intestines while filled with social absence. to adore like memories, as living off of memories such days one was a different galaxy. microcells or macro-bars such steel suffocating ambition. to know too much while never more as a creature hungry to know anything. if told grandness, if ached beyond measure, would you call me weak? as in needing to be loved, but unreasonable about love, while never intending to be loved. too much stuff too many marbles, I can’t grip my grounding. like a dark morning in mourning but filled with kerosene; so flammable so alive, another can’t sleep. our worktable our nutshells, our intuition; as leaves fall or snails wiggle to imagine bringing out the best in you. like nonstop infatuation, should we call it difference, for it scrambles into mind-crevices? our modalities our senses that is, as kids so aged, we feel like miracles. playing with a jigsaw or filing a jackknife or jousting with a wraith – too much to die or too little to try where signs seem surgical.       

Lisa Has A Pet Puma

 

inside a vocal chase upon a lilac diamond I see more endlessness. I might die but it still sails the seas are still wailing. at hills on islands at song by birds into a high too serious to smoke. sheer azure sky lakes such icy fire—the death became fertilizer those bones are souvenirs the marrow is made of tusks. a bit delineated a bit exploited while he never changed his mind; it kept with depression, it was jazzy hells, but it never clicked. love like a clarinet a certain sound while running into waves. woven rhapsody so damn gorgeous I forget she’s wicked.

            aside a scarf near a basin we saw a tunic. furthermore, mauve grass.

            a ride to mountains it seems different what one calls gorgeous another treats with pain.

            such coy beginnings so nervous to grab such a promise to scream; electric base-hearts such holy affection while something in us is dangerous. asking it to wake up begging it to destroy needing to meet it. such social icing such inhibition rust, while Lisa has a pet puma.

            an eyeful of our nature, the way a woman looks, if to know each tryst: like a man is a fool!

            soft into a whisper into an ear such ballads for arrivals. trust me or hate me but get to doing something. too much energy too much sheer depletion so wild the way we desecrate each other. a crazed man a gifted liar begging so much to meet her—that inner light those footprints those dying lips. by vanquished treasons to undress like rain so much a need to erase it. laughing later, wiping a last tear, so many priding our last rescue.  

Locks 4 The Vestibule

 

the touch is its ache, herein, the siren is harmful. at edges trying more with a phantom at my personality. they call us distorted in which we reply, when it happens handle those screams. so outwitted. a person will hate us. born reasons into disbelief. too keen on a person try to walk away they tug jute or fabric or essence. it matters too much, I do as pleased, but I need praise for angst. the hatred in a soul, weaving its weft, so crosswire so much heaving, we know it aches. aqua scented behaviors such rushing waters while I sit absorbing what I now see. so strong so gifted so put together—at avenues sold to endeavors at a need where most are silenced. maybe Jeremiah aside a raisin tree in a situation needing patchwork. too fretted into guts like wheezing without oxygen. not a whit of compromise for a gallon of broken color we’re told to tailor ambition. I need to say it but most have said it with miles between our next calamity. a plaint for the garden, sure grief for breathing, required to ignore what’s screaming. I might sulk today I might rejuvenate today or later I must resuscitate today. another dozen pages another illness another dealing with something hasn’t respect for true winds. the touch is its ache, herein, the siren is harmful.           

such indecent charisma such an indecent scribe where pieces leak into shadows.           

I would say something should be while something said must be unsaid; but it’s as it feels it screams like biases while it needs its shoji screen. a palm of walnut sympathy a pile of pecan indifference an ounce of blueberry heaven. if but to shift like a grave of habits, grass growing on the sepulcher, a mind still universal. born into exile or a baby as a slave while we wonder what’s being suggested. 

juleps and dandelions a nearby orchard with many silenced for honesty. a pile of books for burning. teachers threatened by treachery. religious raked over coals. it gets a certain way, so many miles extended, while we feel trapped in a mazeway. shrubberies to hide persons, or hounds fed poison, or families growing distance. a sheer truth, in this second, as felt we need constant romance. we see a chase we are drinking blackwater while doing the same grief over and over again. it gets obvious, in this land (speaking for the author), I don’t quite get it. so surrounded in submersion so many ideals, while they anger harshly. “So abandon ideals, become cajoling, be free without one thought in discrimination—as in discerning potential harms.” such mythos in a world divided, where one group wants the Classics, and another group wants the Surface. so many asking for Freedom, so many mixed definitions, our bodies taking our blows.      

How To Seduce Pendulum?

 

by sound of its petroglyph by waves in our fears such raw indifference. a bit critical so evolved a bit uncertain. wilderness disconnects as pulled out of soul or left at a cliff sullen. to lose self or gain catharses while unfree gnawing at chains. the polite forest those cherries in bloom so much riding on a little butterfly. rinsed but filthy as passing a haven or pausing at a synagogue. eyes brighter feelings deeper while battling five-day flatness. trying to compose trying find self where one admits depression. or times at days where it passes into dormant, some buried instinct. to awaken with it, ushering ‘transmitters, or reminiscing on Freud’s solution. by war of roses or dear deep vows in each person trying to write excellence. dusty particles or PTSD or dramatized by alcoholism. so easy to diagnose a person, so hard to treat a person, I imagine helpers become frustrated. (we fail to include something dear: with many they have a handle on the human condition. they float like dragonflies, they dance ballet, they play in the philharmonic. we see them, as not free from harassments, but apt at combat. they seem to believe in something a bit more effective than mere suffering. indeed, we get jealous or perturbed or like me, we just sit in awe.) 

a man was at a lake, he saw his reflection, he identified himself. another fell in love, damned near drowned, while flapping his arms. 

back to disconnection, where you want to feel, but something inside desirers muchness—as in revving its engine, such life those years, where a soul was an adolescent. they told of tales where life is tragic. a bit disjunct a bit desensitized, where they say, it only happens to a few. (to realize a steep, plumbless hole, to see many rabbits, while climbing upwards for hours; slipping at points, shifting view-perspectives, analyzed as one going in circles.) 

ending here: how do we keep performance as addictive by Love?          

Turquoise Sunshine

 

drowning in essence such winter’s eve at piano with mixed keys. those truth-bitten eyes those treasured palms at galvanization to sing. sure blueness or teal green aside terrible flustering. rebuilt at an ingress such swashing to shore as abandoned to increasing screams. why would it be different? have we been in therapy? if so, did we pass sitting in similarities? so much an ancient antenna so great a wilderness too naked to claim vulnerability. stressors to get right too high to feel good while too relational for commitment. some need as with a family where silence reigns tremendous. if we cared or caressed ideals while one feels so injured. a person becomes everything a system tends to crumble it seems we wrestle something inherent. some property some cage something told we must war against. I asked a question, I was sincere, where has monogamy come from; moreover, is it an inner component, while some are making it by becoming everything – every kink every scratch like permanent birds. so much distress so acute where one never had something like that. to dream of escape or ever this note while Love is at a saxophone. an interior phone, it keeps dialing, while Love answered. a ghost of things a funeral of behaviors as so enthralled by essence. something one doesn’t know is something one doesn’t want to know while everything died when they met. a body like ancestors or dreams like Indians at pure satisfaction.       

We Adore The Joker

 

but twinkling those tracks such half naked believers. a broken mile a jaguar as pet a pit bull tied up. we laugh too much, we get angry too much, we often feel hopeless. I was running or swimming airs were getting worse. half sanity half backwards while attraction seems with immunity. at a glow. at her name. like fleeing a pack of city lions. a bled man a dead river at guts still laughing. such illumination so sold to three eyes with a six sense. too much to sustain on borrowed time at a sad negotiation; sounds are mute, silence is begging, a foot heavy on beliefs. too many zinnias or jamesias while it should look beautiful. a man to grounds a feeling like alive but dragged to sewers. I watched Love, I listened to Love, I wanted to open to Love. a dumb ass feeling a swerve backwards, a pack of hyenas on a thresh. too much glitter or too smooth while many become the pain I fret. a flat man, on flat sand, while an angel spoke a flat language. I saw her giggle the giggle was broken the laugher was misery’s chain. sunbeam luster. deep inside her. thinking to a vision – I broke a fret. we used to sheen, they watched like coyotes I ran with cheetahs. the lioness was cruel the feeling was like dying as joined like it was needed. it was hazy it was mazy they beat his ass; a flashlight a club a night on its mare. a supercell a book a bar with too many fences over a man’s face. I looked, it was sweet, I ignored like building miseries: driftwood; I gripped; I traveled like cleaving to Europe. never so sick my sickroom my anesthesia at a cut like the 19^th century. I dwindle further I loved her eyes I adored her hips. so much a powerhouse so much a small frame while years have changed our gears. I’m losing passion I forfeited attraction it seems the ink is my mistress. once incautious once so direct once a full fretting jackal. too many hate his guts too many turned into vultures while many hit an industry and felt like the past died. at one like a long spoon at another like I heard the voice, while many seem to forget those rash ass miles.   

God Seems to be Waiting! Ghetto Science!

 

eating gas a bag with Jesus so dirty so filthy a good man. sister at mercy aunty at anger we seem to commiserate. used to love used to adore it was bad into good. momma sprung or brain-fire at some ghetto strung into flames. I ghost good it was pain like trees without conversation. too many at his guts a bullet with his name a little on high alert. so many gates a bit paranoid, how else to picture destruction! Love was misery or a game while I called a chill and spoke to goodness. so much to hate us such bottle locks a little man just got banged-out. a young petal breeding, not even 18, such a violent ass memory. I skate through traffic I heave loneliness sewing too many cigarettes.     but a leopard too many spots was loved and adored. a bag of gypsum a bottle of sap as a man gunning through fevers; a woman so good a woman so mean, while allergic to keeping it to self.     I can’t appeal to you such a madman so eager to get the patient. it felt good to speak it felt trained to articulate it felt pain to walk away. the wall is higher it was meant or intended like love broken or a fossil – to see it rise to see it in prayer while the sky fell. I’m on goodness like madness or sadness like destiny or deaths like memories. the drop is bleeding stabbing like at ninety hit the gutter lane passing Manchester. mother resurrected it feels like wizardry where one is afraid that she transformed. every addict must look every person must pray like a psych at a lane near insanity. too restless too dead while flatness has an agenda; such a catastrophe like devastation, the voice is out!     I returned while a sickroom like a broken chair, I smell odor. the flare was blazing the cape was shredded at Love like, it get’s worse. too fluorescent too feral while flashing on culture. I knew him I knew his stamina it felt lonely – a bit like losing was good! the glare in the gleam the strong in the weak while God seems to be waiting!          

Walls Are So Noisy/Nosy

 

let the dance be fire the flame passion those deep blue greens. such sandstone wings as apt to fly while wrestling lately. over winerock under conclusions such rich forgiveness. upon a pendant so secluded as if we know beauty. a man dies to screams or becomes unstable so wild inside. if Love asked if only Love tried but resentment is parted by death. by birth to have rites to passage like fiending so bled dry. a last garment a first distinction as proud to live icy. no more it craves while it suffers in memories of a ghost. too many scruples too much depression too much trying to please strangers; if but so normal if but so brave as inclined to sip a margarita. such Spanish with pride, such Africa with rules such essence as streaming cosmos. no less than perfection too many fail while our scruples remain skeptical. afar in the distance a man carves a piccolo for a queen visiting in the morning. so kinetic at heights so electric at loving so addictive as unwanted. too great our fatigue so abased in hells or too happy to seem authentic. a specialized woman a keep-home-woman with kids filled with naivety. jaguar eyes deeper futility at triple flame. naked fens as swashing winds at memories unaware of origin. ghost bent webs or spidery messages while Love has run across nations. our last soul rummages freedom so much eagerness.

            they marched into war color seeming its issue while it concerned unity. to meddle or manage to feel major as critical creatures aborted. so cheerful over pains while disguised in faces to find with hope one dream. as we challenge tradition it comes with anguish, we ignore so much to pride our façades. born beautiful a lithe crystal as never realized. pure sophistry so sullen so seductive. to hear many angels as presumed a soul if but to feel loved forever.       

Unnails Stability: Drives Indescribably

 

from rooftops just screaming to assert pure miracles – the balance in edginess the source of dying while so alive it aches; those terrific eyes those terrible thighs while so evolved its sweet devil’s ink. so quiet before it just raged out such a trip back to primitive caves. at a sailing fever as it crosses seas where never as intense as those arms. sheer tragic winning such wonderful loses at a feeling irrefutable. an inexorable attraction where it destroys while Love sings her current fire. a leaky gas pump a cigarette too close I’ll visit from heaven. those inner barrows as rushing waters too pure to be otherwise. so exhausted or too enthused where perfection is by absence. too unvetted as to fret such winds with essence wafting naturally.

            needing consumption afraid of absorption so deranged for faint of vision. I stand in snow I infuriate flame so much a tale in her diary. surefire dialogues so undercut while passing me by. such a huge heart such remorse at timidity while saying love seems too elementary. indeed, most need passion in light of courage if not to be absorbed into another being. by best of us as but life in us to feel pleased to have lived through you; humble cages or watery sparkles while skies drip oceans – to tell how it happens or more how it feels as asking by too good for silence.  

those footprints those miracles so charged to awaken.

 

at your door assigned to wash some alienated motif. we knot in stomach attempting to open but the jar is too tight.

wasn’t long but it was rock bottom silenced to experience.

a math mystic a machine mystic with too many bars. by thematic color by Europe for assistance while white men uplift DMX.

life becomes comfortable to those surrendering while building. sullen edifice as it frets normality so cursed to be elusive.

reading clarity so soft for humans or re-bagging our cayenne pepper. flushed burgundy where she might smile it hurts to know we died early. loving to frolic or filled with luster so underprivileged.

                                                            I hear his music I remember his face such drastic transformation. to give life too gallant for submission. at miracles or dying in easiness while one just wants to feel loved. so much taken too much destroyed but life might have its gifts.

                                                            a soothing caress a need to feel her pulse to walk away and hear a cry. survival for survivors. medallions for heroism. a ghetto for 1870 through infinity. maybe will argue or debate with 1865 seeming like freedom. so much by 1863 into a gust while Crows were grimacing.

                                                            sky gifts or a chasm in conception so wild to see anger. we never discussed it. we never gave it credit. but we knew it seemed like too much.

                                                            shocked by Shock G, digital unto its grave, at times where believing seems essential. like ghosts in shrooms. like padding in rooms. or like memories during altered skies. in her bosom as laughter changes dynamics at guts to get up. so many stressing sights so delivered to souls too wild to explain.

            an aberration to some a gift for ghettoes or such articulation of universal depression; to pull from a song to die to a feeling while “I gots to get up.”

            so abstruse so absurd such aphorisms. where something said is something felt – for when it was said – it immediately spoke to our situation. sharpness or acumen or struggle unto resurrection; a prayer for their souls or a ride back to purgatory. we call it limbo, as Protestant children, while most blacks, from rough angels, are Baptists.  

                                    so amendable as in yielding to spaces killing innocence. too attenuated if not aggressive so much to decisions; so blighted the garden is suffocating those believers are gasping. needing support gathered into support while often failing support. can’t debunk our hearts can’t deceive invisibility while ruing souls seem to become God’s Language. a man hurting self over so many hills while debating Solomon. so demystified or trying to give credence with one gift left in signs. a soul in a pit bull or a memory hectic in a syllable where dying was so long alienation. to embitter our minds or to reach for beauty in a situation where hope seems estranged.    

                                    such facile reports as such a trend but it would hurt if they said nothing. a catch behind the eight ball, sure framed finesse, a heart bleeding in its resuscitation. helping hands or disappointment as living a curse; up for a time or down again while rising to become destroyed. souls at love so cold a chip on his shoulder. filled with furor such abated anger while surface was a step away.

            those footprints those miracles so charged to awaken.

Furniture Diskettes

 

get lower as sure naïve too explosive to fit in. a mother dying a day in celebration if to know her anguish. a man for reasons or a love for treason while always feeling like shit. the hydrant shattered the hourglass is prejudice so much to being human. I get sad as some mulatto, we have it so good! on minors for this, on yours for that, while the questions engender rage. eons of forgiveness or being burnt while evilness never second guessed it. a gelid sympathy an observation where we pity your kind.

so attracted like a dumb person or fevered by rescue.

            a fable as a wound a celebration as torture while, regardless of identity, it feels like penalties.

            one says something to worldview. but what has it been like – for you or your cohorts or your endurance?

            so many mnemonic vices so silent it’s normal, to imagine what victimizers are thinking.

            a child was murdered. he just reached thirteen. we discuss this like there’s an excuse. such remedies while one feels fucked another is back on his force. a woman killed a man, while reaching for her taser, what reasons are we working with? a trigger is similar to a taser, to yank it out, no recognition, to cock it back, and slam a man with bullets – “What the fuck are we discussing?”

            it gets disgusting as living is crucial while color seems to be an issue. or loving some person, healed in this person, to realize a woman is different or a man is anti-rudiments.

            by faith as needed if but to believe.

            an error in calculation a cognizant decision while they fear one untraditional. but as it breeds, we sense another condition, while love becomes predicament. or running person to person, looking for royalties, while slipping and sliding pleading for devotion. a mountain to an ant a feeling to a sociopath or a need for what we can’t give!

            something to a person, as waiting, enlove, with never a complaint.

            so encouraged to be nice. she died this way. what value to flexibility! so close I disregard you. so at passion I use you. or so decent, it’s like agony to get away from you.

            I marvel at excellence. I debate authenticity. I desire to efface misprints. so imagined, as so pure, with little thought to what has controlled us inwardly.

 

 

For many seriously doing right, I do apologize.

Love, Indifference, or Disregard

 

I grab a glass I see reflection I blast a cigar. I sense independence I know it was hardwon in alleys so figurative. tell me science or tell me love or tell me it’s not so serious. as bled a color as it leaked one forgot his station. our souls at doors our women underrepresented at such mahogany torture. 

the way we use or scrape emotion so enthralled many years ago. if but status but life is cold a punctured reality. such a warrior the smaller gestures as creatures aborted to damages. by biology to assert realism or phantoms in crowds—so close to remain unseen. no respect for suffering as trying to increase suffering while a daughter sits on the couch. women as housecleaners or women as lawyers or fighting harder to earn what one deserves. 

I roll faster I unlatch a linchpin I sit guzzling insanity. I met her or laughed as a sense of self-defense. 

those magnets as repelling while pushing backwards. the oak bleeds the vanilla cries those respects are seldom. gates are opened. we walk through. a sign says, “Welcome to Terror.” 

a family name so I named myself it roots inside of me. an anchor knitted softly while needing reality as most turn to others. such a song as it proves, we engender disappointments. but many select as in an instance, where being used outwits being lonely.

 

I vanished like a thief as abused too often — such inertia, so abased, it was hell climbing upward. so numb like too much, and many escaped, to our jealousies. an upsurge of rightness a need to feel honest a gut made into a wizard. too many outcomes or too much love while we never so fully at ease. if so, we channel our ice, where one is afraid to expound — I spoke, freedom was smacked with facts, while many never discussed issues — as soul built or it never mattered or it engenders division. a soul gunning harder, or a lady searching books, while our experience hasn’t been all bad. so ignored I feel essence or an effusion of disregard.     

Whirlwind Guidepost

 

by waves in cries seated at his table – so received in rawness a book hit fire – a young fate in an often situation while too many walls spell isolation. a gut sentence a bar at mirrors most have never seen self. a bladder burning over another glass at much silence. so tender into a center dynasty while fever churns in an empty river. so much with Egypt or trekking Cush or looking at gnawed bones. too sectioned in demolition such raving in bottom crevices as bled dry trying to repent. sold a scream peeking behind essence by far a diamond at her choices. the city is filled with gods those oceans bleeding while goddesses are playing guitars. an infatuated soul a drinking soul while we get nice at the campfire. so warm so sticky such release to feel abandoned. I admire where it’s stable where gentility is a rule while every person feels received. a cure for minds a remedy for desolation it sounds easy. so often at celebration so cursed for faith where suffering is written as necessary. but what if, if never but pain, would each grow into capacity? oh it would hurt so surface where literature would cough or drown or chunk up its ghost. the country is frowning those backwoods are grieving while anything we love is wrestling; to sense our bowels to reread our intestines with too many damn mistakes. I look indifferent I feel indebted while music is softer lately. too low to articulate it seems flat with misery it seems I’m missing my ingredients. I loved her, I thought saving me, where I would save her. but she was powerful. her stock was fluid. her IRA account was spirit. but a remedy for me, as all for me, as if I would live like that. so close to adoring you so far from hating you while I realize we have addictions. every second every wave every cave every slave, where it was good to lose every strong-clamp.         

Walls Return Pressure

 

I try never to mention you or to probe other vacancies while too trying to ignore my experience. it must be indicative of me or some omen jargon as sprinkled in fairy dust. or some deep demon as a-cultural in a capella by a hand I cannot see. I sense subtle intrusion or railways shifting tracks while I could never be an incredible everything! moreover, days are younger, tiredness is inevitable, most wear unreasonable masks or badges at deep indifference wreaking ponds of havoc. but we select as we grow while sensing our mirrors – heights in basements or levels abased or trying where most need unreality.     I was at images. I saw an apron. a lady was baking cookies. she sat a tray down, snatched off her mittens, placed her face in her hands and wailed.     I reach a space where it becomes seeking while nursing an uneasy feeling. I have a hunch in this fair design, most people, despite status, are wrestling with incompleteness.     but another lady might dedicate life to a church where her language comes across as unnerving.     it seems private each person’s malaise while most need someone to unpack it.     or nemesias on an early morning looking at a moistened mat.     satire dim. eureka hiding. or at life willing to submit.     it takes strength such independence where final call means reflection.     by deeper memories, while one dislikes us, because we told him his message sounds inauthentic.     indeed.     one needs to be needed.     another needs you to stop thinking.     while I come across as villain for pointing it out.     it might get sunless or stars might outshine most deaths most lights such fire.     I noticed something about true friends, they move a different way, they vibe from deep centeredness. 

I shift moods, reviewing a conversation, it seems life means ignoring facts.

but too much given to sad places or seeing is conditioned at a place in darker vanity. skulls in memories or memories foggy at a space in memories. the fervor of what we want, as opposed to our actions, or souls filling crevices. as a cave opens another is waiting while we try not to be too specific. judged by every word, in a system easy on itself, where others are walked to a guillotine. a bit pushed by necessity, insomuch as color must heal, while we presume others are free, for they lack poverty. as adroit professionals faced by faces where faces speak for reasons. as a channel provoked or needing what we can’t give as consumed by vanity. many have greatness they fly with ease we concern ourselves with their condition. if but to deviate or drift into shadows or degrees in reference to some home – as part listless or infused at a second listening to things seeming impersonal. by a wellbeloved for action in lights where absence might weaken its link. or held dear as criteria where he didn’t quite measure; but others have rights, as in discriminatory selection, where life seems more about survival. aside a freesia so planted in ambiguity where we spend time controlling each other. but what has he, in his proclamation, while emancipation becomes self-freedom? too many armchairs or sofa-indifference where souls are pleading for completion … for inside a space is cringing, it longs for revival, or it tends to self to a level made handicap.           

Ghost Vision

 

by sluggish horse-drive by leaping willow by deep wrenching uneasiness. by buffalo hunting if galloping an inner rhythm so native to our curse. by heaving heart as racing to evaporate, I appear as a shadow. over sugarberries to admit rain such leaves speaking where music can’t enter. I have died. I’m long into memories. I return as a deer. so hunted so mutilated I return as a cheetah. panting in savannahs or swift on some animal while lioness watch fiercely. a meal taken a roar as it reverberates, I run clearing terrain such wheezing winds – by flute, so seduced, a jaguar watched a leopard. life is different by humans we assist in deliberation we delineate our magic; like pure non-sentience while conscious where a wild man speaks falderal. chemic atmosphere unrehearsed survival as it rises it flits. by paramour those endless escapes a man rummaged a snake cave. obviously nowhere, as maybe subliminal, or a sentence strikes its chord; most difficult silence or years unspoken because Jenny is a good sheep. such regurgitated nonsense where a person fixes something remaining broken, for it can never be fixed; so tenacious so ignorant while we must listen or negotiate or pacify – those dark, repulsive claims, those insidious filthy debates, while one asks, “Are we serious with this shit?”

a phantom swooping fastly if to catch a rising sin – those winds in guts I fly in huffs so arranged to die one day – sheer satisfaction or sheer disappointment so long into divisions.

a shark is on the couch a beast is in the room a tigress is aside a settee. a girl braids hair she talks and cooks she multitasks.

a boy, like 13, is rolling a cigarette. he laughs for no reason. he has a hidden ego. or his superego is haywire.

a cat sits atop a table a dog is growling a mother tells him to shut the hell up. but I dream like if awakened by ghouls or omens or cherubs.    

Contemporary Diaries

 

being with disorder might feel like religiosity, as getting close to essence in a field fraught by force. hearing timbal echoes or unhinged from anything but what’s inside. foggy disposition, firm rationalization, at some internal shift.

            I go gray as affixed in trance a lady noticed. I needed psyche I was a ghost in psyche it was measured by momma. but into father, as accursed by family such begging to get right. attention seeking or bruised in soul while mediocre on correctness. a man as friend a woman as feral they ditched me.

            so knotted so precise as felons running.

            an ink-print a palm of bearings so wild into a gorilla. I see it vividly a casket by name as made of metal; a sparse funeral a mask in dreams while wilderness was grimness. to hassle over words to feel a certain affect while we argued over syllables.

            I walk differently. I see angels. Love is damn secure.

            so abject so damn low while feeling good. a suffering exposition a wretched set of hands where passion is a ritual. I was lost such a daze no one came. I trespassed I offended I got to feel rejection. so pure in life such a decent person while many hate the goodness.

            a locket in a ditch a snake atop a pile such filing his brains. so easy to click so hard to stick where one noticed his spine. so argued over freedom so many apparitions while hearing a slight murmur. a bit too much a gift made zealous while we watch adjectives.

            how to unsay the said how to go against conviction while it never mattered, he was good?

            I angled as a child I got ghost it was years on the West Coast. I hit hood to hood I panicked to see a gage it was days fraught by fury. or met a good person or asked a good question, to love like animals – so close to marriage!

            too much pain, as in guts, such raw ass travail.

            how to subsist in another’s agenda with hell feeling like ghettoes? so impulsive like a damn child where he became methodical – as too much to sing or indifference to soar while we select one’s we adore.

            I exit in anguish or angelizing a scream if but to touch perfection – those musical skies while filled with fears so close it aches to taste breath. an inner journalist a moving magazine at a table filled by contemporary diaries.   

Untold, Plus, Uninteresting

 

born to a situation or generational enslavement where sociality is genetic. people set in their space or prowess to survive while most need to escape fire. men acting fierce or arranged by fury where hating self – trickles into a flood. horsetail density along alley passages where no one is taught to cherish self. indeed, if I hate myself, I will hate others, where disparage is systematically prevalent. one might run into self-pride. another becomes yoga. or others slowly rot, angered with others for moving forward. our contrarianism our private flutes our tribal tambourines. we put riches on a pedestal or we panic to say hello while perception is rooted existence. my cup is full or empty or at some measurement; my life is cold my reality is harsh, I grow, if not monitored, to hate those possessing what I lack. or a small girl, climbing her mountain, placing palms on those tablets. torn by toil or slung in mud with pedophilia ranking high in America. to deal with poverty, to have violations, as asked to perform at high capacity. some tragedy at bass those booming speakers those terrific calamities; as tethered to trauma, trying to fit with others, while so silent most never saw the breakdown coming. “I was shocked. Helen is a cool, calm person. I guess looking back she was a bit reserved.” herein, we get a formula. if one is isolated, or quiet, that means such a person is going to lose it. such remedies to rare reaches while agony is often vocal. I was primal at one time. I sought civility. I noticed we don’t truly like each other. mother gave a countenance, or dearth gave a countenance, or honestly, disorder gave a countenance; as conscious seekers as probing sewers, with much hope in discovering country-sides; notwithstanding life, where problems get immediate, while others just work injuries out; to die a bit, or to live a smidgen, if but to believe one will free travesty. by keel of soul, slowly unstitched, while most have deceived to retrieve then disappear. a woman with three children, a man headed to Chicago, a child asking too many difficult questions. so mauled inside or forced by defenses at some fence too oiled to climb. but a boy is genetic difference, as appointed by destiny, to earn a scholarship. most study four hours a day, he studies all day, most did three pages, he did seven. so little but self, or re-gauged at turns, such soft encouragement. a person becomes too resilient, or too independent as a tragic story untold.               

Always Looking At Skies

 

fragile morning miracle as a good flay to arise to a craving woman. necks in orbit characters vulnerable as to keep kindness. I’ve been losing pieces they become fragments, at much paining to become numb.     can’t guard sufficiently. can’t rehearse enough. nor protection from whirlwinds.     I show remorse in adoring clocks certain to evolve as one losing.     I keep a close distance. I expect failure. I try to believe in humans. some story in mind, as it plays on record while such fever comes between bodies. I see blackbirds or hear tropic birds or sit eating Fruit Loops. 

as to change by instances as too close to function with precious thoughts. was made to feel indescribable, or hexing alphabets, in a semi-coma. too religious to feel free too indebted to feel psychology as some agent promoting liberty. 

so soft into a diamond such language as intimate so quick to make a lasting decision. as souls made in ink or letters form sentences while we admired deep reflection. 

but gila-monsters or dinosaurs where many are wrestling genetics. such dispensation so uncured feelings while haunted from within; some sage as a great lake where hours are between islands. 

I felt abandoned to a ghost. I learned to function. so many vied against functionality. where a person knows, she knows with insight, the how to triggering your guts – those wavy crevices those mental caves, she has a key to a limited door path.  

nights sipping casually to hear Love utter her voice. trying to unwind or trying to read, when it comes to us, I must listen to my friend. 

            but a ghost at some angle adored in likeness. or a phantom so intimate we dine on memories. an inner dialogue a deeper person while ever so close to cliffs. every thought modified every perception clung to or ignoring what seems to be deliberate. 

            I see your spirit or I open my eyes I smell your essence. breath at necks or arriving a minute too soon or trying to make right, for partner is always available. 

I never defeat myself, but I practice defeating myself, at some strong insecurities. if but to charm self if but to ignore self, like people we tolerate. but needing intimacy or accountability so actualized as mere fliers. to soar higher or come to cosmos at arts attempting to define each other.           

Erase The Memories

 

to see open seas so displaced so much an opportunity. I pause at a store some moms & pops location I purchase a tamale – I add chili I add cheese, it never tasted so good. I shame self I remind self in much as decided. doing 45 mph I swerve left I see propositions – as seized by flitting or remembering someone pompous or edged for pains.     I’ve paused. I sense disaffection I sense total isolation where speaking seems uneasy. those normal expectations as they come only with normal perception. the photo is a ruse those anxieties are normal while left with anti-conscienceness – a strange person a weird feeling a fret early into a conversation. if to see it such design as displeased with resistance. close enough, a panic in closeness, a clause in our contract. those provisions as meant to protect, with gnarms barking in the background. as confused imps trying a good life while tugged by underlying behaviors.     a man was good he lifted reality but turned like thunder hit the sewer. a sink inside, a stopper, it must be drained. added Drano plus a plunger, it feels decent to breathe. a washed face, a new image, if but to sustain it.     a woman was creative a euphemism wild into sunshine. she married a man, he loved like winning, we have trouble without training. such as for granted, our basic presumption, while a person hit screaming at magnet traits.     if sudden it might hurt if priority it might get done, I fear we face a deeper monster. some type leviathan some dear challenge where many have no sacrifice measure; a pair of mistakes a cake afar or so indecent it’s hard to bounce back. so trained to mix flames, so discussed ahead of time, or so eager to feel nasty. like desperation or disparate dysfunction too alive while sacred — into a family name, into misfitting, while a trophy sits on a panel. cotton pillows a fair respect so precious to be with you. I know old partner, way over there, knows how to rev muscles or test a Benz like riding in profanity – every turn or predicament city where a woman is three weeks late. so casual or a mere selection while we die to learn our feelings. by miscalculation or it felt like love or I knew it was science.     so much to emotion you, I need more receptivity, or I walk asleep too emotional to habit.     (lady luck so much I realize we’re grown.) softer feathers or fire in a furnace or a tent in the backyard. such grounds or such church as too much to afford. a condemned pleasure so intimate, but oh some fretting or music like blues or trash in its language so cured in one evening. at privacy or dear discernment at some terrific experience. to touch eyes to sip nectar while engrossed like no one lives. the insecurity or harm to senses at a lake some pride in winning.     shed a tear in us feel like dying is living so afraid to rebaptize; spirit in language or consciousness in words while more is not security, (but less proves vulnerable). our daily decisions our lethargic insights at a privilege somewhere in academia. as a seed misfortunate or a mind made fortunate in a suit assigned for display. I took a rooftop. I was gunning hard. I sipped like the days were ending. some eschatology something ecclesial while palming a topaz mineral; those nights while at some tavern where it would rev into an intrusion. speaking to a Muslim asking questions, a bit bias towards Sufis. as a mystic promise or a mystic mistake while time tells his story – some parable some disguise, at a fable meant for adults only.     I was at her thoughts they seemed so clear, I just kept listening. to read divorced of gender as actualized listening to those premises. they came they vanished it was hell like that. so much a soul, so tender a body, while affecting cosmos. I wanted in I plead my case I was rejected. I hit a store, I bought a fifth, I drank with a friend. we talked. it got even. we fled to a war sign! too consuming as in wrongness, or too light-footed when hungry, while skiing some sky-slope. so much a stronghold so frightened too much remorse. at patience to see, while we teach each other.     every thought isn’t a rescue, every rescue wasn’t a thought, while each person is a miracle – those mental mudflaps as needing rinsing where I was proud to once dance.