the worrisome war as created to
suffer at mathematical emotions, a bled man like it’s over man, at guts
sprinkled by elixir. ashes and dust or sediments and bone with sociality
ruining goodness. sad sunshine or eyes telling secrets a face too narrow to
know joy. a fool at his planet some design where badness has justification.
under sycamore aside a squirrel
feeding insecurity. something to humans a dear secret we need each other—else,
something is distressed, broken, glass has shattered.
popped a bottle, just last night,
sat, sipped, and became sullen. I walked around I looked at my situation it
dawned on me, I’ve been satchel’d, disrupted, where forgiveness is like trust,
only by our naivety.
to believe in another person to
feel consumed to gaze into dancing pantomimes. it can’t be what’s expected with
souls, much lack the sky is burgundy while nothing is static – moods shift
destiny is challenged, one would adore faced by indifference.
looking at a damn mirror sure
feelings into a sink as understanding a better person is in there.
like a man made of stone or
trampling himself to grip light a palm made empty. most might but
sophistication cries while most fret integrity. some are living a bit
unfastened while needing security … to rest an eye, to become philosophical, to
unwind with patience. (a child loves mother a son mimics father where both
parents are divided.)
a person tries for a reason. he has
a need, a plan, be it good or bad. she has requirements or demands a certain
level of certainty. such a sad state so many old skeletons—nothing, as often
dies, remains a true secret—unless no one was present. but it’s easy a few
lakes a little language, how to blame another person?
I walk an aisle with us, I deny a
pulpit for us, I demand we seize eternity with us.
another wilderness a requisite for
existence—while despite what I feel, I remain pictureless.
