the essence we expect the plight we undergo while sick or sucked in. those polite figures such rich emotion where life is dependent upon those gestures. by gut to phone Jesus by rot to touch pavement so cursed a feeling too hectic. so drawn to confusion such raw manipulation where existence is sought in exchange. such tender behaviors so unreasoned while everything in life is in this moment. by baggy eyes or temperaments where a person must act accordingly.
loving
you was easy. you made it difficult. the sun was banished for a century.
I adore mind-shakes or rattling or something periodical. (he was a blessing. he exhausted every emotion. he would live for you.) it made sweet beginnings or long returns for minor investments.
lost life in you lost seasons in moonshine while stars abandoned those last emotions. so tragic to spend one’s life under the assumption that everyone caters. such real confusion such a disservice where society barely would notice us. to give but insufficiently, for one is not dying, where moods shift in expectation. just a need to feel just a desire to be appeased where one isn’t concerned with that. inverted skies blue eyes or hazel a run into existence. so much a need so rich a success while one is expected to swim. “ours belongs to humans. humans cater. if they refuse to, they’re callous.” it gets harder it gets easy where essence is resistance.
I met one in agonies but too functional to resist. to admire her strength, to dislike her angle, while life has become rare experience. I met another so defensive, we sense emotion, where fear becomes a hormone. a person takes interests, as we exhaust her, where one is running by indecision.
“what you lost means nothing. what I feel is imperative. accept total disinterests.”
the sun was those eyes the heart
was flooded more emotion too much if but to handle. to walk in my shoes to
follow my tracks such reversed sentiments. to die at words to fret decencies
while it’s differences that exhaust. to have a hunch where rules are sadness
while I couldn’t give uncertainty. the feeling they groom if but to capture in
a sense what cameras miss. revving to adore you or sought by interior ghosts
where every room is a universe. the same texture, pure exhaustion, where only
one person smiles. (I think about mother. this vacuum this chair in middle an
ocean those tides too low.) I remembered her eyes. I remembered discomfort. to
fret when it appears. (as trauma has particles or tentacles or it becomes an octopus.)
too much to film too little to give where nothing is enough. the drowning
skies, as rain pours down, while earth is first destroyed—before anchors are
tugged upward, before a person unhooks its victim, while being needed feels
good. so much in exchange for intimacy, where it means, we might die without
our vacuum.
