Thursday, July 30, 2020

Life Is Depending On Us

infights by self those hearers those deliriums. soft baked insanity to have those whispers to regroup as unfit. such sodium to partake or riddle in surprises while spirit has a straightjacket. as hijacked creatures too close to adore while afar one by sketches. to love more as unfelt or unseen while so near I could hate you. (I run a risk in days flapping where self becomes projectiles; for you might be anomaly some unverified winner some summer-history; while bondage is normal or freedom is askew where we promote addiction as innate habit. those dreaded miracles for one might unclamp or need assistance.)     such dear allegiance     or tribal obedience     while asserting some chemical; to read a person or dislike 3 out 5 traits where loving is out of its zone.     curious flowers they watch as we pass the garden while I always ask an inquiry: indeed, creativity is challenged; blacks can’t utilize too many words; thus, art has boundaries or cultural fences.     (I may incline to listen, but it’s unlikely, where education is an unsteady conversation; for we feel a certain way, to possess is to speak emphatically, as not to possess is to speak by hesitance: one reasons in mind, or acts in general, where sex has nothing to do with education.)     —such envy for animals they have sung in symphony they are asymmetrical ink: so cherished by poesy so adored by humans such richer paining existence; but to feel alive to have such depth where arts have soared unto breaking skies; those shards fall they scrape earth while two are thrown in jealous revelries; such chaste sinners, such religious virgins, or fire melding into tension—

those days in sewn pain those freedoms as exhausted where a person pops up showing deeper concern: our categories, or prerequisites, where many are not alive!


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...