Belief is life. Life is belief. I found you by mistake. I adore you by
accident. Waves flowing, ebbing into
frequencies. To love is shallow. To
worship is obsession. There isn’t a medium.
I desire a problem, an indifferent opportunity, smiling coquettishly,
laughing at anything. The days are
innocence, minds straying, against odds, moving slowly, dry as moisture. I’d see deception, sensitive behavior,
maybe elongated/breaking eye contact.
Illogical thoughts. Illuminating dreams. Closed skies.
A soul will ignore himself. He will drift into a
mirage. He will be scarce for one, and full for another. Clanking iron, and ferric dynasties, a
head full of bronze. Many herbs to
conjure you to existence. Many feelings in gold. Shirking emotion, playing monopoly, aged
and developing. Prose as a problem. Souls as intermittent. Spirit as traveler. I was silent—lifted in time, feelings were
debated. By a fluid hydrant, aside
meadows, aged and dying. Mental
databases, to witness indecision, formed in the belly of the beast. Insincere
laughter. Uncomfortable presence. When one reflects on indiscretions,
temperament, and disguise. Searching for
a safeguard, to locate a friend, while working against self. Something unwritten,
as a code of mystery, a part of soul hates itself.
