These
pages come with resistance while harboring our truest selves and relinquishing
particles and segments of something so distorted of something so flawed where
writing is but a second. I’ve come to adjure you in this wave of dying souls
while grandpa knew for deaths. This partial fork and claims would vitiate about
anything a man can justify; but love is crucial where love is wretched but more
love in order to remove this bed; our morning jousts our afternoon goodbyes and
anything to renew what was first so electrical; this sad man this manic lover
or this person becoming tenderly phlegmatic; but love was asking and love was
seducing and love settled upon ruining something precious; this raft of beginners
or those abject reasons so alive and so hectic while love is feeling
uncomfortable; our partial views our distressed hearts where pressure causes a
migraine. I knew for weakness this kiss in public while a foolish caveat struck
its intestine; but love was passion and love knew games and every monopoly was
such sweet surrender. Those terrible ladders this infant regress while father
is so far deep the angels are screaming for pity—such delicate beliefs such
purgatorial harbingers while love would watch and serenade and laugh like guts
were a fantasy; this pitcher of gin or this picture of sin where a daughter
means so much too freaking late to apologize; but mother ponders where mother
gathers and maybe not academic but mother knows survival. I chance a
relapse and I chance a fever but hell to playing too close to fanatical rules. This
feature in me this vocalized architecture or something so rued I need God to
sustain. It lives by orientation this fever given so early while mother said to
say the Lord’s Prayer; as years would develop and opinions would harden a man
became more drawn to mysticism; this running fool as watching characteristics for
Lord knew it wasn’t a psychopath; so gray this language and so rude this insinuation
while love is lying around every block; this social characteristic this trait
in humans where one watches for an entrance to rule over brains: my hurting
gut, a child and life, to ignore so much and lose, nonetheless; reprieved by
ghosts, so deep it voices and but a villain became a theologian.
—about
too much for redemption about a decade in sulfur-lakes and Jesus was late when
the chair exploded; this concrete and steel cell this little lady from Siena so
struck with tremors or medical problems; this ecstasy in fanatics at something
seeming holy while abrupt and nonsensical chatter seems to rule a room; this
deep mystic this flying fire but something is deeply askew; but screaming into El
Shaddai and whistling into alleluia or gripping carpet and piecing together
Elohim becomes a formula for becoming such wicked and despicable creatures;
indeed, this open book, this deep rebuke, for it has become difficult to
tolerate. In this small vessel this removed brain as accustomed to something
too long ago to recapture; but visceral feelings and cut emotions while looking
at something freaking his bowels—
This
rant and rave this depletion and catharses or looking at a woman obviously
stressed to gore: crimson prayers or deep repentance all but fleeting if behavior
remains but sameness; but a loop in turmoil a person honesty beyond wits and
terrible with human composure; this fleet of fleece this feral phantom or those
pictureless photos; our grandparents but lunatics while contained in fancies if
but a locomotive prayer warrior; so lost at this monopoly so charged where
geese fly at something too enigmatic to explain.
