it appears as miracles, explained
with ease, caves atop mountains—most are one-sighted.
racy chaos. motors bleeding. oil
spills.
blind-mate existence, to gaze into inconsistencies,
smiling with capacity, rosy garlands, withering beasts, tales sold about
happiness.
duties as humans. if it appeals to
conscienceness; if it drives souls; as immortal sages, the cage by silence, becoming
a vocal leviathan.
ostracized nuances. ravaged brains.
thoughts catering to bliss.
to feel the moon; to enter the sun;
I confess the malady!
over steaks, sautéed onions, crispy
edges; namely, a soul, a good time, arguing the boundaries of Utilitarianism.
utensils—to wave goodness, mere sacrifice, dungeon breath
and garlic.
the welting soul, the wilting whiplash—as
but side-effects, it felt ingenious, racing through calamity, tugged as dying more
climaxes.
beige-brown twigs, an endless
revival, as to claim a secret: Our days
are spent with rekindling.
flickers to brains, nights to
deepness, experience becoming suspicion.
talkative sleepiness. wakeful adoration. praises for much the joy.
souls afloat, splayed by the
living, more expressed as inner domains.
semi-conquered, the
quasi-existence, playful insistence; to hold morals, to attach loyalties, to
ignore the core of anxieties.
a shout about silence, a scream about
silver, so electrocuted, so golden, chasing after emptiness.
