the gunning soul, reviewing the affidavit,
couldn’t shift the feeling. sky court, cloud documents, a few terrible and
great pegs.
quite natural to adore you.
sandy-orange grass, stumbling in spirit, never met a few this millennia.
incremental daisies, minor pleasures, prophetic curses. to imagine a project,
to see so much bubbling out, to feel frightened, to want control, to designate
self – the
task is never to end.
so close. to remember the rain. to
kiss at necks. to say, “No!”
many say it’s an illness, to
appreciate inversion—of happiness, bliss, the plight of the first tablets.
an ancient bible, becoming a spirit
talisman, reading more the stories; the beauty of the sorrow, the agony
of the greatness, the means to its
end.
if
only into—while dissatisfied, therefrom—made less the reality, separating souls.
by its
voyage, Passion entered, it’s the orientation. I said it aloud, became a wild
dog, thrown to debris. mystic contradiction. cultic concrete. if they knew what
the few kept sacred. the wilder
countries, the orgies, the fallings and failings, the warmth, as never
so
interrogated by a whisper.
was
reading an older document; it seemed apparent to me the phenomenon;
nevertheless, (I whited out several entries).
it’s not
a place to tell it, as a place to learn it, while most officials straddle a
roaring monster.
Was It Expedient? what was the purpose?
something's hurt far passed the jurisdiction. at some point, it’s no longer the
one person, the rage is suffocating, the boundaries trespassed.
if
apologies are genuine, one will decipher, if good, one will move forward.
(as a
strong agent, I understand a strong agent, it doesn’t matter if it’s manufactured.)
such bliss to engage—to have
knowhow—to
enter, filled with fire, resentful, followed by remorse;
eleven
out in Vegas, abandoned out in Atlanta, like a cyclone when it first hit.
eternal awareness, it will live out infinity, it started on that word.
sweet
keenness, the rights to endure, assuming, in parts, “He
hasn’t
endured/suffered enough.”
move us
quickly. the irony of feeling disgusted. the miracle of the last to understand.
mental
picnics, thought-ants, crawling higher, getting to the golden eggs. so
incomplete, to relish in sinning, to hurt, wrath forward, falling, clutching
our guts.
(I can’t
as it was done, I must as I do it, rereading here or there)—the sacrifice of
the (word cages). at the
turnpike,
literature on trial, education indicted, doctors forced to operate;
the
excursions, as the magazines read, prior to being put out to pasture.
searching
for what she knows. never on good karma. both are a bit bourgeois!
