It gets heavy—what was God thinking? He had a plan. She knew how to dance. Expecting much more from us. High hopes. Higher spirits. I was liquored up. I tried sobriety. It aches. Nonetheless, it continues to ache. I met myself, it was wonder, a soul mirroring unconsciousness. All day in society, listening, watching, wondering how we got there. Rare creatures. Life is glory for some, I have to believe that. Too many categories, such simplicity, such profundity in some souls. One minute snapping a picture, another second as pallbearer, another second trying to address his mother. Of course, she hated existence. Something positive—goodness keeps its badge, a poem draws a tear, a passing image culls a vision. Indeed, most aren’t aware, I wander on God’s Claims, asking, why some are more affected? Yes. I run a risk. Nevertheless, many are occupied by sex, money, eating, or all the above; others seem sullen, moved by inner portals, trying to locate joy, she seems to run, she seems to cherish a certain lot. Many disrupted by the inconsequential, more self-chained, needing a nudging, if receptive. Nonetheless, all are existential, nothing is trivial, just some are occupied by life, others, pains, many all the above. Good sex, good eating, good money, & deeper darkness. By flame to vent to those reading, by gusts to float, by aches to convey perspective.
