made into morality. signs of
significance. an issue deserving attention, made in favor—of all parties
concerned. the aim is high. resemblance is critical. souls are perfected.
I loved an image. they attach to
the sub-conscious. they seem immortal.
the portrait is the fantasy. we’re
renting ideals—bathing in illusions, mirrored in ruins.
the ceiling is a metaphor. crawling
is symbolic. instincts make for attraction.
a bundle of curiosities—souls rising
afloat, the woman is fierce.
needing gestalt reality, nature of
wholeness, communicating with representations. if eyes water, we absorb the
revelation.
it was unknown to me the depth of
the attraction—until, without notice, I reached for an image. the vision was
with wings—the depth of my confusion, something I would never see.
accountable for creativity.
reluctant towards creativity. or delving back into creativity.
the caricatures are dark. the
allies are filled with art. I seem affectionate over what I can’t touch.
religious icons, religious tones, roughly secular legends.
I’m gaining beliefs—confused neatly—there
is something to it: under the surface, deep in the crevices, plus, an accurate
accomplishment.
in losing or gaining beliefs—the substance
of the matter—doesn’t change—only internal operations. I may not believe it,
but it’s apparent, and it makes sense. if the phenomenon is different, assess
the observation, ask if it is readable. it usually isn’t. one searches deeper.
the observation is full of dusty particles. one dangles, trying to decipher,
the facts are blurry. it might have been the first thought.
there lives an anthem, underground,
moving dimensions. there’s ability, so confidential, true understanding is
charged with secrecy.
some are different. we might
observe them. in time, we learn to live around them.
