if but to live, spliced by
insanity, sane enough to sense insanity.
many rooms inside the mansion, many
locations, occupied by measurements.
much alchemic concern,
transformation, aches through growths, and more pangs.
sassiness in a kiss, when it says
so little, and the days are resentful.
the gut will sigh, cringe, elope
with frustration. upon radiant sunshine, the winter impending, the truths make into
a blackdamp.
if love were observant, if love
cared, but love is indifferent, lowly, and distracted. there are far too many
people to love.
if the beast weeps, it might find redemption,
or rest in shame. the beast is with unrest, cleaving to an image, fighting the
still blue waves. the beast is unsure, kept captive, adored by the evolved.
maddening infusions, the mind made
to debut its elements, many shadows in the distance.
the battle is the delusion—pretending
upon a star, removed from the center person; wishing in a sandbox, hoping upon
a sandcastle, the behavior becomes another battle.
the more we awakened the more we
slept. things seem difficult that way. the flowers wilt. the powers are
realigned. a smile means something is amusing—good, bad, or indifferent. or
something is valued—as intriguing.
if silence is beautiful, it’s also
painful, it’s mandatorily sophisticated. too weakened to cry, too strong to
flaunt it, too winded to run or fly, as silence ascends higher.
vistas and tombstones and
catacombs; many apparitions, aside a feeling, so personal it becomes another
reality.
sure tender mercy, upon souls
traveling, if not to absorb inertia; the spirit to its monsters, incarnation
upon breath, same winds, different persons.
most wretched solace. most put in
order person. or shattered, walking around in parts.
in returning to sanity, sanity is
running from itself, something in itself—doesn’t desire itself. we see this in
those escapes we make—in which, dangers are optional.
with sheer admiration, variety is
deceptive, to imagine two locating each other; close to retired, as on romance,
to meet and come to life again. most radiant creatures, so often disavowed, to
become like pristine diamonds.
so cryptic the crypt of existence, so
much meandering, to try to get to that space; the walls watching, the ceiling making
mockery, the floorboards taking notation; to find in heart, some component in
earnest, if but it fulfilled the empty forest.
