Tuesday, May 26, 2020

Spirits Are Up For Ransom


I get concerned when one pops in, for we consider what it carries. so long at silence such mystic children so consumed or self-centered into galaxies or deaths so young communicating that way. a man met strength he decided to retreat the spirit kept advancing. the man is blocking forces or seized by energies while some are from atmosphere. to adore something ancient or to understand more does exist where affirmations explode into literature. I recollect or reveal into sudden chills a spirit so facial as asking while disappearing. it didn’t stick which brings us to conviction while one might say, he is clear; for if not, one would tremble, thoughts would rummage until one landed upon an infraction. it raged it needed its home as one is born into a search for interior recognition; to align with intestines to bring brains to ambition while many are designed to render experience. one might hold a spirit it eats or flees or returns—as it laughs it becomes maniacal it must defeat its habitation. if but to relinquish it to sudden into remission while one’s spirit looks through another’s eyes. it peers at itself it lunges at itself it adores if but to control itself. our silent universe our present contention if but to space a spirit lodged in his essence. a child deprived of hugs becomes introverted where love seems to belong to discussions; such dependent creatures or at tension with something extensive while never a war where everyone was elated. to keep it together to analyze self while something is taking its course—those dark jealousies for too much makes skies crazy or too little causes a chasm. so amazed it hit where it peaked as fleeing to its source. such a deep secret where it realizes the agent is not guilty. it makes its investigation. as deciding upon its action. where it might return to its emotion. I ponder Moses even those magicians, we have something similar in our times. one worships by self-assortments; others worship as monotheists; while some are atheists or polytheists. such hold similarities. it requires a keen eye. where contempt is shared or distrust is intimacy.      

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...