By Habit

They enter hearts, such barefaced silence, concerned with cultics—or more towards sorrows, as sensing divisions, founded in unities. It’s sheer reverie, our young souls, sipping mystique mire; to elude mirrors, exploiting kef, at seconds, fraught disaster—to die that breath, awake at parish, fuelling an exorcism: as knitted fatigue, a season at fires—courted brains as mystic shamans—invested in winters, creating blizzards, to mesh a dragon through fevers. They speak it softly, as laudable souls, too engrossed that deep belief—as kneading science, or religious instincts, this blend by treasures, iconic—as furious deliverance, or mercy that hatred, to give by arts this affection; where souls sparkle, this altered event, to outwit a percentage of destinies. It’s deep a debt, while pure an anger, at haste this pensive position; as cried his nights, feeling abandoned, at deaths to confess improvements; where mother churned, as father sailed, a vest sealed in hexes: this charm to souls, that livid disposition, that carefree vex-appeal. They die at wars, as noted otherworldly, to listen closely: Oh for memoirs, buried in psychical safes, at which a key comes by flame—that inner kiss, to produce a tome, by rites this vicious retrieval. I became young, this vessel of darkness, at wrestles a holy force—this curse of souls, as mystic vessels, speeding at silence, our God. Oh for pictureless, or unphysical—this catch as invading our calmness; that terrible backlash, that inevitable evidence—our natures at war—as not his soul, but something tugging, as grandmother unlocks a velvet box: at tears we climb; peering at magicians; enlove by charms this inner vehicle—to writhe in agony, at cryptic possession, this treasure at war: chiseling wainscots; anticipating battles; at shifts to remove that principle. I do confess power—ever in motion, floored to concrete, those nails; where days are darkened, while nights are sunshine, as more that esoteric wisdom—to envision a phantom, or imbue a ghost—those hours feuding through trance; as oh for mercy, those laudable souls, as haunting horrors!