the observant days, quite
prolific, more so, the alertness. like a strange kiss, from a moving spirit,
unable to open the eyes. or pushed, nervous, looking back, “I must have done
it.” quite hypothetical, the mind acting on its body, unsettling to realize
what can’t be answered. this was an issue for an absoluteness, its disposition,
seated as an alien in a large classroom. it wasn’t realized, our demarcations,
mostly, I kept pushing forward. like those situations, unable to change events,
most just keep pushing forward. I was taken by something, I can’t pinpoint it,
certain ladies draw my attention. it’s similar for us all, needing to filter
ourselves, nervous, a cracking in the voicebox. the night is creeping in. there’s
work to do. I sit looking at photos inside. my reach is limited, I wish to transmit
a piece of myself, if to have a certain, particular, indwelling connection. I ask
what Jung was like—his brain—his understanding? not so much a Freudian, I’ve
let go of Kierkegaard, plus, it has become unsettling to read circular claims,
in a situation, where most anything is speculation. more to art, confessing up
front, this is my truth—no bolder claim, no greater soul, as to efface its own fundamentalism.
with a strange headache, with a big heart, with her face in my pineal gland, I walk
further into a deeper feeling, one seeming unfit for humans, this island we
stand upon, watching yearnings blossom. how it feels to be temporary, to live
in enlightened periods, haunted by nebulosity. those erect gates, permeating
aforetime, we just know, we can’t meet evenly. much to status. much to hubris.
much more to fears. I have no excuse for my biases. they have aided my
survival. they have extinguished opportunities. I generate something, I believe
most do, most, need a comforting reflection—nonjudgmental, free of
suppositions, free of tendentiousness; else, it becomes hectic, the worse in
good people, no matter its private provocation. [but] sights are harmonious,
left to perception, appreciative of seeing, realizing, receiving beauty. [but]
it snatches me, as to sense, some of what is required, certain instincts, to
remain appeased—souls are divided quite differently.
