in
explaining demons the eyes we spent
time
in wild lakes, fuming over mushrooms,
suffocated,
lost, so eager to come to vibes,
many
screens, viable deaths, and gloom.
we don’t speak it—the
flatness, the caves, the mind-splits—be it bipolar disorder, schizophrenia,
depression or tendencies needing closeness; the depression of Judah—the lion—the
fields foaming with terrors and diamonds, so electric, needing that it
disappears, but desiring its power—never us as people, the fury of the flying
essence, turpentine waters, flaming oils, ducks drenched, flapping to no avail.
over
orange chicken, feral insides, listening
to
insensitivity; nay, not a person begging,
not
a video on repeat, to engender polish—
the
waves of inrush, unknown the kegging.
back to flatness,
spinning in inactivity, made aware, for essence is inert—trying, as it were, to
infuse, to speed across an icy lake, to speak with a swan, in treasures to
announce, in essence, loving you might be terrific.
it
amazes to know the affectation of bonds,
the
creativity, the sudden boom, of galvanizing
across
plains, to live like one reason, if
only
to make survival in one born analyzing.
one begins to
sense cycles, or mandatory undergoing, in a world desperate for grand
experience; the concrete bleeding, leaking intestines, finding in charms, a reason
for apprehension.
