I must have lost something; hoping wildly. I must have gained something; drag racing hertz. I have not an inkling of thoughts. Life appears to be radical—as upon a pendulum,
enough stress to invest more. A first reprint, seeking sunshine, it was destined to be. Nothing would have detoured it. I suppose—we find freedom, if not delusional, to
unlatch something from our souls. To ask for honesty, to retrieve lies, no one is rectitude anymore. “How do you assume?” Life appears in grays, opaque wiles,
presuming as opposed to assuming. I need to go to a place, hearing dead souls, loving how we knew victories. It was mental wings, this is what we wanted, everything else just came.
It’s amazing how we must respond, such a thin line, to imagine a world filled by imposition. Trying to please walls, to decide against it, forced to participate. It seemed
easier; tetherball, soccer, kick ball, etc. It seemed easier; kissing games, chasing spirits, writing cute letters. It seemed easier. Asking what it means to Save Me. Through tyrannies,
each soul to chambers, many saying, “It’s not that serious.” I ask he look in a mirror. Life is on repeat. One reason we have children. To see something different. Each day growing,
until it becomes familiar. I fell in love with sunlight, needlessly addicted to darkness, meshed in sequences, threshed by faith, asking for clarity. It was never more than that;
incessant prayers, skipping full-on wisdom—for clarity of thought. I practiced it, many picking and selecting fields of thought—each line by ruler, each curse by celebration, each
penalty by reflection. I find a clue to it all, despite a level of hatred, an adversary fears being forgotten—passing into sunsets, sailing across seas, passing through palms. You
would if it were permissible; and you would hit the button when you locate it; years to bandits, wolves chasing prey, coyotes part insane. Over yonder there’s a woman, she
knows men’s psyches. So much invested in parsimony. A curious creature. Everything is both impersonal while personal. (So much lost on dice rolls; such courage to live. I was
pondering, trying at excellence, for fair problems. It’s amazing what one will give in celebrating an abrasion.) It sounds harsh: How have we loved? What have we given? Life is a reflective mirror, aimed at itself.
