felt it so deeply—a tear fell; so
stressed over life, following dreams; a curse we see in patterns. going harder,
viral inside, so sick over letting life live. see it in color, the whale in the
air, the falling of the elephant. i know it’s superficial, to meet and greet,
and begin to worship because of intensities; never so compelled, such a
sickened person, feeling afflatus inside—the epiphany of discernment, the
idyllic cross, must take the edges; the dance of money, the cost to survive,
where a man drinks his Robitussin—if but to manage, so drained, facing
theological convergence, a portrait in a cloud, a doctor in an image. to
presume the best thoughts, to be so off cue, as to enter a situation offering
disappointment; or Love is spectacular, shedding tears, the greatest lover; so
much an issue, popping one for excellence, drifting into a hailstorm. so great
the sharing, so tremendous the ideal, if to adore the mythology; on a typo, a
mis-announced sentence, into an eight-year contract—and Love is devoted,
needing fidelity, needing it to work and channeling angels. most losing
interests, others so close it drips energies, others vacillating back and
forth.
the city is filled with
awkwardness. the vixen is sick. the humble person turns away only so often. into
dreams, as fulfilled, hoping on a prayer those arms are eternal.
