the flicker as a friend. nostrils
filled with helium. fragments of the personality. wistful and wishful; much money on
regeneration; another growth protein.
seduced by likeness. buried by skies. eyes wide into the horizon. the valley of lucre, pains, sights said
sullen. the wells filled with bones,
buckets with intestines, souls trying to take charge. mental madness; ink made of promises; the
balance is so unsteady. so bestial,
much is otiose dialogue, such a risk to possess a sandpapered soul, a caustic
tongue. sky pirates, airport egos,
many at flight and imagination; it’s hell believing, it’s a battle to keep composure,
knees and elbows and foreheads—the prayer of the giants, deeper humility, so
mean, albeit, holy—the intense channel, the earth as witness, the volume of the
echoes. impending mudslides; the
season of rain; the woman so unique in one’s eyes—the mirage, so unincluded, it
seems to feel good for others.
many remarkable decisions, seated under tree and leaves, looking at a
rabbit—it hops, looks around, life is what comes—nothing is what it should be;
unstoppable chaos, so fluffy, so nice, so wild; the old cliché, the feeling of
the storehouse, the talkative nature—if but to commiserate. needing to hear
something, to know by some miracle, total exoneration. the gift is rare, to listen to its
opposite, and not feel condemned inside. by chance it happens, a mean person made
loose, the core of a damaging air.
those pouty eyes, luscious lips, perfect curvatures—a galaxy, a death
grip, a feature. the hurt directs the
pain; the pain becomes language; the language reveals the hurting. to have adored like tomorrow is accounted
for; to find tomorrow offers deficits; to find tomorrow is void of the believed
promise.
