It takes more to see you, like memory isn’t enough, feelings can be fabricated; I live in an issue, courted by angels, framed by demons; the bleeding aches, forgiven it seems, a necessary concern I imagine, a man must vet his thoughts. I remember this holiday, eating barbeque, most believing in Christ—why not? It seems to make sense—some entity to take away the hurting.
Endless weather, dearer feelings, praying until tears pour; a cleansing, a miracle, a fret over emotion; to simulate you, to dance you, fire flaming like disbelief.
I try to leave it alone, tugged in spirit, on a day all is silent.
It amazes me how simple its understanding is.
I desire complexity of thought, angled like sin, winning in badness, losing in goodness. It seems twisted, the flavor of deaths, the life as it unfolds.
Deep intangibility; to fret over framing feelings, how to project a sensation—some know in fact.
Breathing but dead. Alive but barely breathing. Feeling goodness with redundancy looming. To chase to escape, to escape to return.
Gave a damn once it was thought out; despite the fact it was coming.
Where has it landed after all these years: a neat package, a cogent reality, an interior dictum; bass blasting, cellos made ghosts, an old demon forced to rest.
I hear thoughts on you—the freezing element, the warm cushion. To imagine us reading, vicarious natures, back to something, it lives; blood dripping out metaphors, allegories broken, a friend committed suicide. How to handle it?
I was listening to an old lecture, surprised the sun came out, I wonder of what it has witnessed. To chance a change, to change for worse, to laugh while falling apart.
They are they; we are we; thus, people are people. A tautology.
To imagine what thoughts are generating—a subtle energy, flagrant, showing no remorse.
I used to say I’d love you forever. I now tolerate such thoughts. To wonder. To praise. To become a creature harder to excite. I realize—it comes by a decision to participate.
To see the best of oneself, many volunteer.
