I try, I guess. it’s
still there. sleep leads to a headache. I look around, no one to understand, or
I expect too much. heart beating. much illumination. the closer I get, the more
it distresses. a headstorm becomes nausea. a blank screen becomes compelling. I
try to appease ambition. many lions inside, many lionesses about, we play, but
many feel like vampires. fangs & claws. leaping & flying. life becomes
horrors. I try harder. it works. I’m not low on faith. the beauty in nature,
the terror of skies, the falling of resonance. we’re a group, tackled by life,
edged, but wholesome. some are stronger. some have given their existence. some
are undergoing heavy ambush. I awaken midstream. lotic emotion, relic signs,
beauty a person can’t design. the scar of Cinderella, the torture of Wisdom,
the urge to do rightness—like racing winds, tornadoes inside, despite them, I must
remain with composition. an esoteric man, a mental chanting man, it has become
its curse. anything can become inverted. many are witty. they understand key
features & facts. I never knew. before the infraction. how else would I have
learned? to zero in, with precision, to enter through concentration. like
superconsciousness. like mini-mind copters. like landing filled with their
present consciousness. a true battle. another sky-feud. many syllables in her
chants. over a hill, up the block, sits a statue. I used to watch it. I thought
the lion would move. we might miss the symbols. one is solitude. another is
social. another is both. one can’t stand silence, it wreaks havoc, it makes her
curl up. another, loves to mingle, but she dislikes most people. they never
realize it, they never sense vibration, we seem to misidentify voltage. if next
to a person, shocked inside, is this attraction, a test, a need for a
confirmation, indeed, even to speak with us? we presume attraction. I think
this is dangerous. I believe most are just communing. we’ve stumbled onto
something precious. it has life. it feels in parts of us. sadness might
dissipate. warmth might permeate. we’re thankful for the souls hurting.
