…in
a silent, rickety and calming space—peering at shadows, relaxed but vigil,
while noises alarm us: such ghostly trauma, so unrecognized, while one has
offered a compliment: mysterious wires, down-pouring music, and an unspeakable
essence: while Love is art, such steam and surrender, while hungering for a numen response: such casual happenings,
such wishful interpretation, as something cascades….
I
study chimes, best known as introjects, debating sorcery: a violent utterance, it
must shift with patience, where one is apt to maintain observance: we nip it at
incipience, as opposed to listening, as it and idleness are friends: so innate,
or so unique, seemingly incorrigible gnarms: those mental aglets, those tiny
cuffs, depending upon an abject response: as pleading our brains, pent up in
tension, while mirrors are stuffed into inrush-lockets: such sourness, such
challenged freedom, while something is operating within: such dragon skies,
such a zealous repeater, where something traumatized, and it was not corrected:
something whittling, even digging mercilessly, so whet with agony, so whelmed,
and angry we haven’t defended ourselves: weal(s), therein, songs, therein,
praise and hatred, and a little child, therein: such vocality, this angry vox,
while we adore our masks: vital turmoil, or a convenient disposition, rooted in
mental Exercises: a peculiar
operation, an interior experience, while some charge negativity into something
defenseless: impossible to unsay, but response is necessary, in order to
encourage the interior Experiencer: otherwise,
hurt and pain and embarrassment seep into an quasi-entity and it repeats those
hurtful, devastating, even castrating sentences: such wilderness, ripe for
unrest, a reason unnoticed, even reknit: our minds are stenographers, or
interior masses, our trauma or ventriloquist warehouses: they store material,
they react to words and intonation, they record those interior responses: such
tyrants, but unknowingly: at speculation, they merely repeat messages: such are
violent, if received as such, and some are pleasant, when received in that
vein: such non-negotiable angles, while we restructure, reknit, and reeducate
certain occurrences: to feed with new material, to overwhelm with politeness,
while never responding to interior anger, unless to mitigate interior angers.
I’ve
shifted internally—at travail and burden, looking at betrayal: where one
fabricates, another is listening, and then rotation transpires: so hurt by
words, where another whispers, while mental abuse is located: at something
creative, where cosmic neediness manifests, while one is condemned for
another’s actions: this thing I suggest, where trauma has occurred, and another
person is making retribution: or love has been made, against a given partner,
while said partner is held accountable: such vernal welts, such an
unsung/retold story, while one exonerates their behaviors: we awash our minds,
we unknot tension, while something is quite disturbed: a fleet of
mind-impressions, such jazzy melancholia, at both imprints and repeated
discussions: our turquoise carpets, our mind-stopping koans, at something we
attempt to rescue: desiring magic, and given trefoils, where magic requires its
participants: indeed, a therapeutic conundrum, this space in existence, while
both are ripe for an unsolicited entrance.
