Sunday, April 25, 2021

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 19th 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.   

PS.

    The strength to withstand the winds; a spell as it effects/affects some creature. A sudden moment filled with absolute certainty, so wro...