Sunday, August 30, 2015

Daydreams

When for daydreams too long, where hearts for venture
sing silent blues? Its metaphysics to thread beyond a
measure of activity; to sing silent blues, where
perception is uncanny; but still to perceive. There’s
a mental lover afloat a desert tour to position for
power. We meet in energy a deafened daydream to
pursue for unphysical. It was here a sun grew to
strengthen structure where sentences flamed fevers.
There’s a teacher turning graves to remember a
young mulatto stuck on destruction to mourn a
bedroom parent. She’s torn a ghost be it lows for highs
a string of theorems blessing our walkway. There’s a
sunlight girl paging winds ghosts on reception where
a locomotive ruptured diamonds. It’s aloof a daydream
to touch for substance wrapped in mind particles,
where onlookers ignore for majesty. When for
daydreams too long to make void delusions packed
away in caves? Its epistemic to wrestle for facts in a
realm of skepticism to swear for a need to thwart
daydreams, where reality is merely perception.        

Is it more a cage to wrestle for words to pull from mind?
—for dreams are segues to hidden activity as esoteric
as sullen glory; where seas for thoughts stream into
rivers captured in a sudden instance. Illusions sing for
plurals to decode realities, where hearts loom for stars
trailing railroad tracks. It’s an art to dream through
conversations to render a solid conclusion; whereto, a
tornado settles into a storm for rain to trickle intelligence
founded in stage-lights; for there’s a method to manage
madness page to page, when clouds have dropped to
take root in ruptured souls. It’s life through shadows to
scream a heart to connect with souls abandoned to an
island of mysteries; but what for delusions moving
through aches where one needs for belief in something
distant from reality? Let one indulge to monitor a
circumference to ensure for reality’s integrity, ever to
guide towards illusions to extract realities; else to build
a cage to grapple with truths to gully insanity; but life
for daydreams to needle an art where mind lives.

I’d Save The Reader Years

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