I
went afar, peering at Rihanna, some sort of tendency. I fell abed, leering at
fantasy, devoid of components; this cryptic music, alive an arc, falling into
Lorde; that physical spirit, at terrors a nightmare, accustomed to sunshine:
this morbid glory; this twofold paradox; our music by suggestion. I swung
horrific, this amulet dangling, our necklines merging; as seated to fires,
aloof with closeness, and so detached; as dying emotions, afloat with Trixie,
agaze’d by Agnes: this form of dying, afar a temple, by knees a portico: such
concrete petals; the dryness of rain; as never so holy. I went to hell,
afforded darkness, that cultic inversion; to know this noun, as something
backwards, by rites a miracle. I fiddled a screen; to hear a soul; while musing
upon Olivia: this attic ritual, by cages a star, afflux a series of feelings;
as persons enter, this vest of heartbeats, at once, our forbidden love: such
musicality; those séance seconds; this inner infinity: as energies settle,
amazed by lights, as arisen a feature—to dance with cadence, infused by
islands, communing by bars; to gnaw a mantle, as to crack a vase, while we
search our inner winds. I heard Adele; I plagued a feeling; I realized a
six-sense: as living young, to become distinguished, while dying young: this
furious caricature; that face of music; those tales rarely sung; to come to
violence, this inner tsunami, our Asian neighbors; to sketch a tragedy,
trekking pavilions, our silence tingling. I went afar, to ponder love, this
vision without touching; that torn performance, that gemlike animosity, our
minds merging. I settled at optimism; this elusive friend; at terrors to
believe this life: where fantasy invites—this field of illusions, while at membrance
that false reality; insofar, our statures, that mental compartment, this
tugging at liquefied ghosts—as seasons sung, this place in souls, to mimic by
angst unrealities. I went to heaven, at reach that goddess, to rest those eyes
unalarmed; as casual madness, our minds as realness, as shadowed our
interrogations; to adjure our brains, as lived by cycles, such motion at
touches of fantasy: becoming blankness; while knowing boundaries; as always
peeking at edges: our winds to sanity; our rituals explosive; this inner world
so demanding. I admired instruments; I heard her soul; I chanced by raptures:
this feeling of doves; that awakened intelligence; our souls at closure that
moment afar; as digging a pit, while to prance a star, by arts as mindful.
