Tuesday, July 21, 2020

Want A Person’s Debris!


by opinion the man is grime or slime or filthy veins—to die with grits to flourish in linguistics as assaulted by beauty; such furnace flames or picnic passions to arrive exhausted or ashamed. I spoke it, it stuck, granny was laughing those grains such seeds while a man eats soil—those beige grassroots as accustomed by violence where a mother uninvested a son. to ponder deeply, while needing to believe, but evidence shows by core majority is rotten. such by payment for all that was good where a person might burn its captives. what becomes the recipe; to whom do I complain; by knees, boots or such sour allegiance?     I felt ferocity while leaping levity where most were clapping at the fall: a man running to Africa, this long trail, so confounded by oceans: he bought a boat, while he sailed, only to arrive by discovery—his skin wasn’t solid enough! it’s different for souls, it starts inside, while most people are overdue for some housecleaning. such criticism where many decline social contracts, while most would become quite unruly!     I was but a flea in this vast expansion to become worthy of a second glance; but Love was roots, a bit insecure, while mastering sophistication: it separates existence, this pillar of amazement, where most are just waiting for liaisons. so much a need, as to feel proud, be proud, or expel internal chasms; if but to adore as too to be protected while never would a moment indict! such construction such removal while I never adored as sight unseen. I go further while walking mind-yards as to invest in something pushing its motive. a pair of gloves, a matching belt, or leather boots; a jacket in burgundy a letter to essence while we argue over substance. but Love was devastating where Angel was delirious as affected or moved but silence was too precious. a man to his guts his girt resounding if but to maintain a certain life. such a tune such propriety as one would seep so indeterminately. those zones those warning cones those orange reflectors—as something indecent where lives are damaged but one culminates something inescapable.         
        



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...