Out of gates, raw, horrible beauty, the soul
unclear—running into you, asking boring questions, ripe for a throw away
meeting; unyielding forces, magnets bled, like damn close to whispering—the
pride of the lions, the rage of the apes, the gorilla in the desert; sounds
amazing to become selected, a rebel, a dream of some atypical genius. A slight
tone, a little sarcastic, as pointing to rationality—many desire peace of mind,
love overflowing, undulations with kisses, children and dreams, a healthy
family. With the bathwater—as we say!
If to spread courage, it comes with politics, how to tell enthusiasm to
take a camel trail? How to temper raw courage, innocence, feeding on
adrenaline? It was nice seeing
us—the losers of the crowd, a little wining this season; the way you looked,
the dance in the gait in the eyes the winning was palpable; so clean, so possessed,
with a viper lurking, a cobra debating, an adder speaking its language. Haven’t won in a while. Been at it
watching. Needed to hear your fierceness. Avenues of concern, blocks of
mysteries, corners parading closure; a little mythical, a tragic curse, plus,
an old memory popped up. It
seems cold winds through the savannah, the cleats keep digging in; so great a
meeting, so dark in undertones, nerves try to maintain the rapture. Such
tsunami vibes, deep mirrors, aching at one tear.
