Tuesday, January 14, 2020

We Stencil Enjoyment by Participating


by register at symbols to die swiftly as to resurrect—those younger dilemmas so ashamed of inadequacies while determined to prevail.

so confused by memories or too flawed to whisper while raining our voice; such dewdrop mornings, or aggravated frequencies, while never such captive hearts.

I would arrive early, those sun-born feelings, so trained to adore you. I would talk so fairly, while initially uneven, but this was appropriate?

but canine eyes or filtered emotion while breathing helium; so unearthed or surrendering to ghosts as if life was rushing. this intake in self those ribbons we explore while trying hard to impress securities; such tender rites so tribal deeper insides to unlock something archaic.

upon something outrageous to mistreat a creature while hoping for loyalty; or such sap so thick into space a shapeless enduring adoration; droplets of humiliation or misunderstood signals or to realize a lady is more advanced.    

it seems respiratory just sitting stillness while a man is nauseous.

our
ink-stained garments
our eyeballing bibles
where it takes a nudge to move forward;
such abysmal numbness looking into something by belief, our mourning but fiery joys; that new smell, those flowery aromas at an incredible aura.

you were unknown to me but so close to me as we realize this in passing; but a vague collage etching into pass-standings where I was ecstatic to be used; such a pensive acre to tread foreign lands where most ethics are abstract; something in passing, a quaint conversation where no one is really serious.

I have loved experience those kind but harsher years while we grow into something we make romantic; but vapor these days or papier-mâché something as such was done; but random feelings or rejoicing our guts where reality is dependent upon our investment; so steadfast but pained, our wines our mishaps, as creative or cultured creatures; to arrive in you or to sing enchantingly at something quite human; so many wings as thrown to heaven, such yoke or yarn or damage; but fire at water, but boiling steam, so firm in something requiring initiative.   

I’d Save The Reader Years

    The beat becomes sickness. A long crucible—a drilling ecstasy. I was losing focus, feeling forbidden, if to self, if to mirrors. So curs...