I
knead us if but to feel complete but something else may appear: the futuristic
cult the feline damsel or money chases into foreign regions. so lost for us or
so cursed by us while mother grates the aspiring poet—his legacy built upon
salt the shore bleeding seaweed or a seesaw upon a mid-ocean battle. to claim
love as it seems impossible but have you had a child? such broken music such
carpet rashes while his face is near to mugs. our frantic argument our silent
whistle while predicament means losing more than pain could unlock. those pitch-forks
the summer alien as confused where miracles are ecstasy. (but Love is dynasty
or cherished while being a lesbian is so damn powerful!) so much data while we swim mazes where art
is crucial to dying. as a man demented or so in line it’s incredible while
wrongness has invaded the temple:
so
cured those days
such
a joke those nights while a man plays the buffoon; character cries aesthetic
eyes while I want more than life might sustain. our minds in heaven our bodies
framed while father swears, he’s immortal—the mind shunning or gunning where
detriment is a good time. (wilder thoughts if but to imagine a father fretting
for the Sun Lake or a man needing more closure. if but war than deaths into a
weary horizon while the sun woke up late. so filmed in me to replay the
communicating wisdom insomuch as a woman so far ago!) no shortcuts, Precious, no clemency, Sweet
Lakes, where one is angered, or accepting, while denial is a survival curtain.
the restless bard those frenzies in time where a man has been rereading Asia.
so famished or flamed while Love speaks Spanish; to hear his name, to bear his
conversation, or tripping over something no one has acknowledged.
our
aquarium nightmare our damaged try-harder as episodes in a distant first
legacy.
such
has been
doctored
or partly sutured while I don’t give you enough credit: you make for your mind,
you have clearance to top tiers, you have determined, such by core reasoning,
to depart or vanish or make best with science.
a
dear chain a raiding brain so fueled upon a footpath.
I’ll
leave hell or graffiti heaven while somewhere reknitting limbo; or cargo
jettisoned or girlfriends lethal where a man needs too much psychology.
the
daughter is an angel the mother is a queen where the father is held by roots;
something killing me, while it was best, for we’re all in better demand—those
academics or those siblings or never a want for augmentation; surefire trust as
such to never quell peace at deeper survival thrusts; strobing existence or
becoming psychanalytic or such by a sad particle; in such as to live, to decide
firmly, where anxieties are mere fears under-girt by subconscious, or
unconscious stimulants.
