into silence, tacit upon a dream, insolent and
dangerous. i knew it was pretend, most of existence, with the core peeking, on
display. so hyper-claustrophobic, running sails, fleeing into waves, presumed
as insignificant; bending elements, eating fumes, weighing lobsters. like eyes
and ears, listening and seeing, never tiring out, never getting the picture. a
soul trying to feel deepness, it’s too low, most need the deepness healed by
the surface; red eyes, swooshing brains, nails in palms, music seeming
possessed. she keeps it churning, most concerned by nihilism, most dreams come
from ignorance, belief, mental media, and dying a whit. another is happy, i
would say something otherwise, it angers people—no one wants to be seen. we do
miracles in disguise, some are so aware, life seems unfit, and daily routine is
desperate for air. into silence, tacit upon a scream, unstable and stable—some in
between state. doing more to learn about Asia, studying one word, “Asiatic,” as
it has importance through Africa. sudden days, minds ruminating, while falling i
rise, the soul appears fuller. the imbalance is addiction, finding a life somewhere,
becomes needing a space somewhere—the death of the deaf, the hearing of the
soul, the ears and eyes alive in shadows—surrendering to numen essence. the lie of the skies the scripture of the
fables the allegories of the human surprise.
