it comes with
difficulty the reigns we hold on souls abandoned to caprice. the fear inside
those flames, wildfire those arcs in souls. I have left myself somewhere. I search
to sweet avail—self is reluctant to unsleep. dear richness, rabid turmoil, by
toil to re-garden an island of saltweed. I have recourse in a spatial respect—years
have made me redundant. as a spirit those sparks into some atmosphere
associated with inner people: mother, father, doctors, teachers, friends,
adversaries. complete or broken dialogues. train tracks through cities. scars
becoming rubrics—in a season for souls, a month for understanding, argued one
may only go so steep. further into it, wild beautiful faces, too many kids in
Youth Authority. raw, disputed screams, becoming anger in us, outliving our
opportunities. some new test, to differentiate worth, many argue to disqualify
us. more specific more in alignment many would disagree with helping juveniles.
some crazy understanding, when minds are undeveloped, by tender dissatisfaction.
I search to find essence in souls wheezing by dear upheaval. one might avail.
return back. give what was assigned to a few. alleys filled with youths. miles
to getting things into perspective. another salivating for understanding. many
packs of juveniles, by rough negotiations, unknowingly fighting a great battle.
purer than we sense, innocence frightened, years in dispute.
