the
pressure was getting to me—making errors, simple mistakes, losing detail, accuracy,
so forth. a soul came into focus, sleep was deprived, disposition was altered;
to have need for affection, like-minded spirits, into cosmic relations. musing
identities, rummaging thoughts, laughing when it hurts. re-sensing elements, as
souls sense sentience, where carpet is just trodden underfoot. the noises in
concentration are louder than unfiltered moments. the refrigerator demands
attention, the cricket is aggressive, the bed has personality. wasn’t looking
for butterflies, ladybugs, or hummingbirds; wasn’t vying for ribbons in skies.
a sphere, a spectrum, has been trespassed—the energies are concerned. if to
walk in silence, or to chat vigorously, such would alarm the children at play.
many pitches internally, many fast feelings, many captured intensities. eyes
made of caramel. palms made of nails. hair made of bronze. such little nuances,
fingers reaching into time, knuckles pleading another polish. carrying a soft
touch, an aggressive millionaire, a truer reality; some different person,
adorned in crystals, seasoned to grow into wilderness. a fraught cage, pigeons
cooing, papers rumbling; to live eternal, coming back through space, chiming,
dancing, feeding fireflies.
