One pushes & may perish in determination. Another watches. Day in & day out. It’s a devilish charm. Plus, souls are climbing higher: firebricks & excellence—to imagine what women carry. Such mind swooshing, to mesh with diamonds. (Adoring was natural. Casual digestion. To figure
it clearly, many are eager to pass over—to meet the gravedigger.) Clockwise dreams. Deep damaging attractions. It seems indifference shields it, adding to turmoil, so curious, so aesthetic.
Going inward the trespass to conjure waterworks, akin to watchwords, such a softened singsong excitement. To what spirits endure; to pure contradiction. In treatment of the wounds, distinguishing scars, escaping in a tender session of lotus making; accustomed to pursuing by
excellence, kneading some craft. And eyes seem cultic, seeing into intestines, a soul is left uncovered inside. One pushes & may perish in determination—to imagine what women carry. Something cryptic to it, trying transparency, measuring trajectory. Entered at birth, knew it at five,
was knee deep by nine. Lost majorly; ever a step too close to life, overthinking generalities—sudden into upheaval. As for cherishing, it tends towards vulnerability, so creative in lotus making, winnowed souls, treasured sickles, palms deep into soil trials.
