I unchain nameless,
surprised the game is filthy, remembering the in-betweens—as unpleasant, a whit
of flame, the soul has been in mourning—to make deserts, or become monks, like
spirit hasn’t been negotiated.
wild times became
humble times, moving after a Promise; to see soul, a cross in mind, eliminated too
early—sort of boxed by Spirit. I was endless before I was finished, many rubies
and diamonds for many loyalties.
inside drums, eating beetles,
running through neighborhood fields. as seated in dirt, hearty laughs, a soul
knowing what the body can’t explain.
the dream is the quest—the angst is
the drive, seals unsealed, webs rethreaded, spiders conversating; anguish-lascivious,
if to feel held, such comfort for a horrible aftermath.
a nameless man, a
good man, a bad witness—siding with logic, giving courage, Love is terrific—and
one asked, “Are you illiterate?” the truest pain is non-forgiveness, it lives
inside.
it seems unsteady,
if one ponders, someone determined to crookedness; a thin line, a criminal
mind, who could straighten it?
much terror, inmost problems, so
uncured it’s difficult to seem unbehaved; a torch for existence, pride for
color, acknowledgement for noncolor.
I undid nameless: Neat Art Made
Eternal Less Evil Stifles Success.
