Tuesday, June 23, 2020

Behind Masks Are Screams


with angst comes sadness where many might fail. by gut-wrench or pliers churning sorrow or by Ghost to transform but melancholy. evening barking or morning sluggish while nights are terrific silence. rushing to pillows or cursed so fantastic if but windows to widows while reason proves its changes. a man unvoiced a map unraveled or someone to trek misery with; to look over or drop a tear while it hurts to sense darker cries. so much a hero if performing while it was danger to unwrap a silent lesson. if located to find home tell by treacherous forgiveness. by magenta countenance as no more than imagination or transparencies flooding Egypt. much dust or dusky chimneys such sour smelling chaos. as ruined for others for dear distrust while a person can’t hear imperfection: our dear critique our caving habits while audacity requires eternal happiness. an unroped agitation a satchel filled with dreams or a poem to an unborn, unplanned phoenix; as fire would learn itself, or a man learns to exist, while a woman transcends herself: a creature in sugar while feeling exhausted where innocence is suffocating. a man to say nothing, as he watches his chasm, or sunk low enough to affect his smile. where passion is difficult or libido is tamed as a woman might experience desiccation.     much more tarmac to faces where decency becomes triumph: soft utterance, by masquerade, while a man masters his mask.                  

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...