We hear
this virus it cuts and tiptoes silence it grips our amygdala(s); so desperate
those eyes where kids return home while seclusion becomes operative; so
determined to resist such footage and cinema where something seems deliberate…but
frantic fevers but altered cures as crazed warriors aflame holding this
underground dear.
I have
been upfront where agony is hope and hope is fruition.
It seemed
inappropriate it becomes shame while such pleasure so crooked while dying it
was sky bliss; so froward or so pitiful where it delivers beauty—or so heinous
so private it becomes public. Such revving concrete such abstract cement where
it was nice to understand you.
The fields
were given fire the grave was identity where history was with strict desire.
I must
be present at both trial and hearings where something probes our futures.
Our predicament
isn’t friendly. It becomes chemic psychology.
I sense
people as we measure our wits where brains are orbits (out-there &
in-there); such the core nexus or such the nucleus while it was polite to
forgive errors; this trenched feeling this sudden shutdown while holding
concerns close to mind-caves.
I am
concerned with this daughter those habits—to exist so near or to fly so far
while grounds aren’t being analyzed; crayons are losing color or crystals are
dialing emotions, more to flame, our guts are building wraiths; to hint at you
or to recover for you where an addict is hard against the gates. This inner
monsoon this living beyond our exospheres while looking at you is intrusive.
So cold
this cycle so abused our gatherings while we haven’t met ourselves.
I sense
something it becomes iridescence but it shifts suddenly into malaise; to admire
while effected insomuch as fierceness has become social law. Sore as sullen or
calm like apes but inner weblocks seem to condition our momentum.
There
is this winter as it strikes interior where one tries so hard to please indifference.
Those autumn skies or those orange leaves while I sit, fiddle soil, or decorate
grass; our shrubberies our talisman-insights while I haven’t met something unlike
humans.
Through
dialogue we sense evenness or we become vinegar—while holding a poker face.
I met
one—a bit disgusted with life—a bit terrified by hope and verve. We give them
space, while forced to identify, where others find a little joy in watching.
It
was an elderly lesbian to specify particular hate where an even platform seems
unsteady. These terns in limbo this tarsier communicating or these feelings of inadequacy.
