the
supposition is pain becomes peaceful where joy becomes uneasy. we assert, in
essence, one settles into an innate feeling, whereto, an opposite sensation
becomes discomfort.
by granite soil where the fox chases
the rooster while there is a danger.
a
man is accustomed to a phenotype. she dances like ballet her eyes are amaranth
her gait is studied. anything less is abuse. an unchained personality, a dying
introspection, they become foul furies. while still uneasy, by contradiction,
whereat, one prefers couth as opposed to unfit.
another
desires an unstudied, verbose, even non-collected mate: by struggle by
angelical sin frothing in amorality. someone submerged in disorder, flitting upon
broken winds, where pain is an amulet. or one needs balance while idolizing
chaos to find temperament enticing.
autumn auburn
gardens or acidic bellicose condition; to sing as unsung those calendula festoons—as
children of our parents while adamant against dungeons so unburied across sands
doing what we deny—the casual fire or raging bull where sheer dishonor appeals
to a hungering palate.
to
inch into sadness so determined this is life where it takes time to adjust. joy
seems aloof while we measure distinctions as experiencing a stranger. where it
might not exist, perpetual bliss, while continuous pain appears natural—the inward
writer, the mental author, while we need our watchwords: the core of meaning
the essence of nonchalance while sensitive to heavy states.
