…grayer
garments, galactic souls, at nightly pressures: such sagacity, such business
pride, and too adorable: stronger women, where intimacy is hobby, and science
becomes lifelong: so many dreams, to gather berries, at orison and psychology:
a blue dress, for a blue mood, while debating one’s reception: mentally a
giant, but socially repressed, while perfect at pretenses: our radical knowhow,
so invested in physiognomy, where a salient pastor becomes investigated: those
hunches, those screams, while mirroring disposition: an unopened index, a
shallow response, while needing something risqué: our midsummer flings, so in
those moments, while disappointed slightly: such sexual behavior, while
aggression is required, as mistaken for this thin line: our passionate avenues,
our electric hearts, at arc and cadence and madness: this space for living,
those intellectual brooches, while relations appear uneven: but strength
radiates, passion in one tear, so receptive to ethos: our logical excitements, our endurance, applied to uncanny
stamina: (but life is algorithms, spacial concerns, plus, unread emotions: our
wooden mallets, our inkpads, our laughing blank papers: our diaries, our
memoirs, our risqué journals: those prying eyes, those privy souls, at
something we mustn’t abandon: our jealous ways, where time is critical, or reception
seems scurried: as living allegories, reviewing our sagas, where friendship is
of greater value): at beige sands, trekking a beige seashore, at distant cries:
such pedicured toes, such sandpapered heels, such polished nail-beds: a
remarkable person, tugged by private behavior, or analyzing a complex desire:
at moments unspoken, quelling intensities, while needing to ravish something
clean: but stature is important, those societal cuffs, plus, a certain pride
about receptivity: our citadel souls, our Michelangelo paintings, our priests
and bishops and appropriateness….
…we
analyze prisons, while taking comfort in prisons, where such gray-matter
becomes private: an omen for breakfast, our fasting seasons, so mystic, so
correct, or plain heinous: our closer allies, our deeper artifices, where we
seek soothsayers: at a clove daily, at adored souls debating, while needing a
smidgen of succor: those helpful, platonic, plus, flirtatious souls: this life
with punishments, this sword with existence, while tormented by introspection:
indeed, so shallow, where design is omitted, while something teleological is
taking place: such crude indoctrination, our moral compass swelling, at
scriptural portfolios: such strong winds, such Pauline Fire, while one is
churning and craving and burning with intensity: so tangled by behavior, such
risks and ostracism, while something dead inside is passing disapproval: our
thoughts to scientists, or prudish disposition, where reality belies our
imageries: so close to passion, so driven to relate, or composed, an interior
seaquake, our shattered islands….
…thrust
into caves, or acclimated to dens, while petting a roaring lion: our fantasies
dismissed, our ideals tarnished, while sexuality is seen as taboo: but
performances flourish, those chandeliers approve, while one is tamed enough to
grow an ulcer: (it comes with surprise, this groomed, well delivered, and
acclimated soul: while life is flowers, and peaches are sweet, and nectar is
rich: looking at someone, admiring aesthetics, while we behave is accordance:
such glamorous pride, such official offices, while so human, by such a chaplet,
we forget that holiness is sexual: our reevaluated sources, our selected
scrolls, while women are perceived as dangerous: this myopic view, while also
delicate, or impassioned by power: such laudable creatures, if but to gain
favor, where one might surrender in order to prevail): our utopic design, this
perfectionist America, while many never enter exclusivity: our calibers of
subsistence, our stellar imagination, our desires, our heart-pressure, plus,
our sexual divisions: interior caches, interior séances, while inclusivity
becomes tolerance: our diverse castles, our crying behaviors, while corruption
seems rooted in perfect deserts: a certain upheaval, stemming from blossoms,
where suppression is pivotal: our connection to behaviors, indicative of a wild
kingdom, while we must behave for societal upbringing: so surreal at times, to
become so relaxed, while formed by something flogging our brains….
We
mustn’t fret, while compartmentalizing, or singing our private horizon: while
we restructure, dismantle, and deconstruct: our nocturne passions, our silent
vocality, where bodies emit odors: our balanced interactions, our fervent
lives, our walls with doors.
