I
lose testimony, silent weeping, estranged like porcupines. the meadows are in
prayers, the lagoon in eyes. most terrible niceness, or catering to
imagination, insomuch as un-treasured fantasies. denominational rains, nomadic
relations, seduced like living in Rome. the fields in my soul, a bucket filled
with aspirations, I sit, wither softly, the days are becoming redundant. sure
esoteric absurdity, as it eats linings, the geography of multiple furies.
unbuckled, wisdom in Seneca, craving in Socrates. the nights sleeping in
oblivion, as required in souls, asking for sweet leniency. mother is a tree,
unborn children dine in wilderness, feathers are flapping forever. back to
choir, back to winning, let beauty be gentle. so rough on you, so raw with me,
when it’s spoken, we play pretend. so much as liquids, so little as solids,
running from his mirror—seen in devastation, found unfit, while released to
hells.
California
suffering, the elite suffer, those alive suffer—maybe those escaping suffer. I vanished
into oblivion, the blog is known of, we never speak it. we seem disgruntle.
apply to another’s rules. a fever in terror, a group in agony, a man’s lineage
stands before his face. even if, with all complications, heritage is an issue,
tattoos are an issue, to love you is an issue. the complaining man, the dreaded
man, each lock feeling like a secret.
love wounds are evident, we need affection, I carry you forever: the
angst of the mastiff, the volume of the leviathan, the last picture in a dungeon:
eyes glossy, hair disheveled, memories spoiled. so sour about us, so gauged in
you, where I suspect before evidential. so close it feels foreign, so estranged
it feels normal, to watch a person begging a foreign lover. I’m not interested in
redeeming yesteryear, in bringing it back, just a tinge more healing.
just
buried a photo, added weeds, petals, a little oil. lots of dirt, a deeper
degree, like living is unrelatable.
