the pleasure of
passion, rethinking a person, like structured attraction—animal fire.
hope for the
hopeless, isolation made gregarious, the island in the city. selection of the
fittest, the warrior’s mind, so much strewing. abandoned to watching, flame is
sentience, midnight hours!
weights upon
lightness, alighting negativity, needing pure fire—as not to stop at fire—the beaut
as aesthetic, more needs as wants, sweet desire as space.
no time to run,
listening to gup, dispelling false assumptions; too tender to believe, some
curse, while so plural. surefire excellence, made for the many, as one needs to
have life; a feud in fuel, gas lit, a trail blazing—as they need now, what they
never wanted, such a cage made indestructible.
the courage of the
rejected, so much torment, to have passion to fly—to hit exospheres, to remain
humble, so much the root is change—the chaos of the drongo, the treasure of the
phoenix, the child so alert in me.
many bad ways,
many senseless trials, many gripes in a world hating itself—more to not loving,
how to give, what hasn’t been received?
washing my body,
is some river, deep rinsing to adore some person.
trying to impress
what has failed itself, while pleading our insecurities; asking precious light,
adorned in spikes, such behavior as it destroys—a clever man is a sphinx, so
distraught by an action, despite, intentions—the face of the lion, the scorpion
inside, the poison one drinks—as a loud creature, saying nothing, a victim of
his mischief.
inhaling crucial pressure—making
mixed measures—to live with the handicraft of one’s works. it tortures, it
drains, to have become so much a repentant. born in penance, born a bastard,
born beautiful; some paradox, they use some up, as he becomes suspicious of
lights.
