It
seems so delicate while reaching tumbleweeds into something both ethnic and
noncolor.
I'm wondering about twilights those daydreams where traits become evident.
—to
hear souls or to encrypt spirits while listening to something unspoken; an
unvocal ache a dramatized hurt into portraits where souls are rational; to be
that person or to maintain silence while so perfect so jubilant so passive—
Inspirited by us or
looking at mirrors or blurry into sunlit phantoms. Such vague promise such
struggling leniency to feel so spiritual manning the gas chamber; as remorse
would cry or a man might redeem while virtual reality cleaves by perception: so
indelicate, so cursed, as angels vying for occupied seats.
So descent in mind-crafts
or so filled by integrity or not so familiar with this language; as seeds
soaring sewn into skies at sentience bogged down by seriousness; those silent
sensories this gray galaxy afforded autonomous sacrifice; into something we
never expected or rereading our participation as field creatures or desert
scavengers; so much light in us or something suffocating while so many are
watching; but love is so tricky it rarely becomes altruistic while true fulfillment
lies in services: if but to feel that way, if but to live that way, in such a
sky-minded indebtedness.
I
know more the condition as opposed to the person while closeness might
run with deeper familiarity: so torn in gravel so aloof from pains while
defining life is unrealistic; this relativist orientation, this belief that I venture
as I please, while the world is harder to negotiate with; as souls explosive as
creatures through races where many transfer home life to public life; this
disappointing war, for most are quite unconcerned, where most are at internal
battle.
I was into my séance longing
for rejuvenation while musing through body auras; something black and white is
gray and something gray is opaque while something opaque is nerve-damaging: our
charades are electrical our minds are adjustable where we need for hoops and
gymnasiums; those mermaid legs or Aquinas’ brains into mathematical equations;
such weeping ashes such wire upon fire expecting it not to leap; but it retorts
in itself, it seeps through pores, it is a living entity.
It
becomes sphinxlike into something foggy while patiently chipping away at soot;
so much to this cause, to realize it doesn’t feel, or better, it only
understands that it was ousted.
We
pigeonhole people, while evidence is contradictory, and this causes a
mirror-crash; we default to our assumption, instead of shifting our perception,
for it feels better to assume than to verify. A clever mechanism or one to
incite souls while earnings mean status shifts; nay, it means that for groups,
where outsiders do not care, in fact, outsiders challenge such expectations.
