we need something in what we give while essence is dark or florescent. we beg for precious delights so innocent for our love or so sick to do without. by agenda by issues by confusion. we never ask we merely presume while illness kills his soil. the angst in gas the fuel in laughs so stressed trying so hard. too many loose-ends or exes that must remain while such treacherous imbalance. to have strummed violins or raced inner phantoms so tender a wish in testimony. by broken nerves or itchy flesh where kites are omens or distress is so permanent. as feeling deaths so angular so much a dynamic. to lie in saffron to confess in jasper while wrestling needing something inordinate. the volume of the mistake the curse of goodness while it’s so perfect it bores reality. as needing excellence to feel secure while imperfection has such character—those warlike skies or peaches with cries so destitute so lost it must feel normal. by rosemary a bit for spells where deciding us is crucial. but a man in webs, but a black widow, to mate have a child seeking to destroy. so incurable, the bass dropping the face muddy, tears are dirty or salty water—to have existed to have died while resurrected regaining lost memories. too accused to escape too famous to flee too much remorse to repent; by raw psychology by healthy anxiety while vindicated or given freedom. never such words as we have in America, “It’s generally accepted!” as a creature shedding habits, to conclude something made essence, for his classification. needing a million in surprises to have longlife if but so much in debt. to want with utter existence to love made like adoring if but death before lane shifts.
