Give
me life, become my winning existence, beg me to congratulate you; sick and
slothful, rejuvenated and energized, every emotion wrapped in you; dirty, more
filthy, sullen, more sorrowful—at piano in feelings, some curse, to fret
rebirth; moved by music, a different person, you met a snail, and listened to a
chameleon. To slither back when, to feel reborn back when, theology has rotten’d
brains, shifted dispositions, made man haughty. [I was sad to think of you—some
disempowered woman, so empowered by humility. I placed soul on high, a
difficult man, listening to error; so beige in greens, so marooned in science,
to beg you to just look; a pleading man, a night with arrows, so accused of
asking for too much!] It was placed. It shouldn’t be present. No one knows
consequence, naked action, before the tent fell. So twisted, afraid it went
wrong, making diligence, careful, torn and alert, methodology of firstborn
indifference. More fortune, less fame, more meaning, less haunting, does it
end, is it forever, was it a major infraction? (for) Love was madness, shared
treasures, another afar just smiling—the last to arise, the first to perish, at
mediums to resurrect; and praise was misery, many adrift blessings, so low,
physically making dents; with flame into the meaning, parachutes in the eyes,
to reach and know it will be greatness.
