sound crashing on wires, bled unto spirit, seeming to
evaporate seeming to appear.
a younger problem, an anger attitude, trying at some
gem—those cryptic waves, exotic cries, to have everything in one instance.
nothing like her, operative & styles, bred of
power skies—a cultic ache, falling out of memories, another season at a live
version.
a driven machine, asking for mercy, knees filthy—at a
seven in mind.
to exist in it, something tugging his soul, nudging
his spirit, wrapped in some relation;
a feeling most heated, or a week of a smaller
excellence, life meaning, she can activate it.
sullen works, suffering silence, to imagine why she
smiles.
too subtle—too much on said wires, fraught by
atmosphere—
lost unto located, speaking another language,
something antihero, anti-science, yet
factual.
just imagine a distinguished woman, (never said a good
woman), just electric, flying, with a need for excellence—those
with pain, revved inside, adrift skies, palming
wilderness.
perception as an ingredient, an artifact, discovered
& placed at a furnace—some other world, to win, to fret loses, reduced to
perception—either sound or unsound perception.
