To
be there is to fear it, a quaint acquaintance, a real but unreal reality. I fell
there:
sick
but whole, for whole but sick—a flight through kith. Take heed love: it comes in segments, to
churn a clock, somewhere the mental.
We met through space, ever to
analyze,
to shun the woulds. I love you come tides, to wrestle inwardly,
and disturb
silence. Its jamais vu, for textured eyes, to
project rays. Its déjà vu, come
Friday
chants,
to remember Sunday. I move to ponder,
a captured dove, that fights
addiction;
where I wonder the same, concerning a mirror, to lie to self; and never
could,
to hear it screaming, a forest through a psyche. We live it in huts, to hear a tent,
speaking
for language. I soon return, to feel
for life, to speak it through silence;
where
words are depth, come sighted suns, to nestle through speech.
Let us filter, the hidden depths,
falling through brains; and still to stand, a slanted
vessel, chopping raspberries. We fly
like scared, a reflection come dawn,
sitting for grinning. I grip a
cliff, to let go soon, to look from atop. Its mental mystics,
to ponder a lecture, and ever draw
strength. Its psychs and meds, verbs and nouns,
spinning through psyches. It’s a
vague enchant, to sit alone, rubbing a necklace.
We die at random, to rise with
culture, ever to shed layers. I saw insanity, and psychotic dearly, screaming, Give me!
The lights are hazy, to mimic therein, and perish come
lights.
It’s torn design, to hate for darkness, come growth a vessel. I see it more,
where
something’s
vexed, and screaming within; and oh to meet you, fully entranced, floating and
barefooted.
The medicine did it, to see for ghosts, a subtle mist. It plagues a background,
to
know
it’s close, as fire to a fly. I see it moving, the face of dimensions, to hide
from whom?
