it’s not together, it stresses, it mimics miseries. it bled out, it hated itself, it lived by its shadow.
he sweats nervousness, rejoices in menticide, conversing his demons. it would by tortures. we assert God heard.
what could live silence?
you’ve been close, looking, deciding—how is it to play God?
it became addiction, any planet, cosmos falling; unreachable, near the lawn, a tabby meowing.
the great snake, to seduce a dragon, such beautiful offspring, such darkness lurking, a mental picture, it befuddles.
i was wars inside, traveling deserts, eating dried fruits; laced with traumas, aching mentality, fevered unto more limestone; to adore passion, to laugh at random, with many playing guitars, listening to blues, disputing where God lives.
life has memberships, disappointments, mysteries—to exist in boxes, such a vast universe, anything to win it—so deep an under-exaggeration, an overt truth.
she’s with herself, unbuilt, distressed over activities, to gaze into her eyes—a yawn, a façade, the moon is bleeding.
a keystone grin, a crocheted art, she dies where she planted seeds; boxing his brains, laughing maniacally, sudden in violent frowns, apparent to a last breath.
