I set out with a condition—by an existential,
to have felt this way before; by a garden of lies, by treacherous beauty,
demented enough to keep gargoyles alive.
So much was given, at least I thought, to have arrived
at this moment. Adoring as we do, one eye open, sleeping as we endeavor.
A palm filled. Never closer. A mouth phantom and
perform.
Morning is upon us. We met in our rage. We have a
strange netting to us.
I would come to love a first night stand. So much a
gifted person, a soul on fire, so much is given to superficial determinacies.
Days are enraptured. This is what we chase. This is
why we do it.
I know about a woman. She hurts the rules, adhering to
the rules, and safe in the rules; she has tried both elevators, the grand
heights, and the rules are better.
I understand the rules. I, too, fathom, we want to
outdo the rules—life seems fuller when it flows naturally. With so much pain,
we’re at once set to exonerate the heterodox.
To have said something, so gray, giving leniency to
the sacrilegious, the heretic; nay, I speak to smaller infractions, tongue-tied,
for matters of the heart are paramount.
So tantamount to treason, so unsteady, with one
asking, “Why us!”
I set out with a condition—by an existential,
to have felt this way before; by a garden of lies, by treacherous beauty,
demented enough to keep gargoyles alive.
Penguins and certain eagles come together and stay
together; maybe all eagles—I only heard of a few. Nevertheless, nature is
saying its piece. It gives us room for temperament. If upfront, one can only
swear against you.
I wrestle with reality verses preference of reality. I
search out the perfect answer, not for show, but assessing things from all
perspectives, attempting to answer the problem from each disposition. This is
challenging. One must see their biases—their inconsistencies.
