sandpaper the surface. repolish the
face. anguish has become sweetness. I
was aloof inside, numb, unable to reach me; pathological, unsuitable, relishing
in detachment. some things, experiences, should shock us—alter our perception.
as a man with pains, or with hassles in veins, like re-abused in several
screams. to have died early, traumatized by reality, or suffused by love,
spirit, dynasty … furious creature, living a furious life, many spoke of the
resilience theory … a soul able to bounce back, because of perception, those
issues approached with wisdom. Love
is anxious, insecure, fleeing horizons; Love is water, quenching thirst, the
sun is blazing. to have sincerity,
when it aches, we assert incorrectness … I’d rather hear truth, despite its
flame, then hear lies, so slow to unveil.
so freewheeling those years—they were brief those years—memories have
seldom to make comforts these years. I sound one-sided, so unilateral, maybe
there are witnesses: vital, spitfire tragedies, children made into stuntmen,
better, ropedancers … such highwires, such beautiful faces, it still crushes
inside—raw behaviors, trained irregulars, imprudent, deliberate mistakes. much hair-raising activity, while trying
to make sunshine, it seems real all the way around … from East Los Angeles to
Brentwood, deep essence, shifty zigzags, eruption due to displeasures.
