the chase is for peace.
the violence has prevented
serenity.
a large gulp to get right, others
do other things, it gets to be redundancy.
i have disliked her. we have no
business fighting, in company, at the Twilight Zone.
i will never break into perfection—might
touch its realms—might flurry into a contradiction, but never full on,
uninterrupted perfection;
so, let the moon stop gawking, let
the sun apologize for misdirection, let the officials stop with the coverups.
i was with damages, looking into
the hurt, asking her to necessitate her needs from her unrealities.
no one is settling for pain, unless
pain is a gem, while pain is all one might recognize;
so uncomfortable with her.
a reason to maintain the relationship.
if but to override a particular discrepancy.
the question is to answer the why
behind the atrophy.
some people never see us, others
try to, where some hit a nerve and need to be unattached. many aren’t believing
in what is being sold. some are good people, with a longstanding reign on
righteous deeds. and others are taking life as it comes, negotiating through
the various ways to destroy semblance.
we have nothing for the lights, the
furies, the flurries through grays, and nights, and tensions.
one might attack systemically,
realizing the point has been made, and walk further into his or her future.
i have thought of the physicality
to the magic, in essence, she does possess numen.
to know the worth of the comely
birth, of the one in mention, as in skies, the length of the ball and gala.
a man dying inside.
an impetuous man.
as to understand, nothing means
what we expect it to presume.
another, as watching, so tender, so
delicate, so lethal.
