Friday, November 13, 2020

Beneath Paintings

 

so much to outwit us such carnival or caricature—by rainbow pendulum by impatient muse while some are unlocking inner dungeons. the ante is her mind those treasures are her contentions, or midnight arguments about obvious things. an arid winter upon dry lips or a difficult measure to adjudge.

it was true science where it becomes scales while I fathom such gray contempt. something I can’t carry, in my own culture, I ask that white males carry.

such gulf upon winds our caves fretting natural selection. to need something carefully or to expect certain treatment while such a hassle to deal with.

            as we give chaos in turn needing friendship, where one thinks, “Only if I were gorgeous!”

such smoke or soot where we really dislike each other. such responsibility as in what we advise while censorship means try harder.

it might drift or get dark while behaviors are justified. to quaff a shot, to look closer, where we desire all time fun; such a klutz as seeking balance in a jungle of wilder animals. if softer niceness than possibility until we realize one can’t fit in. this is truer person, this one sitting there, this is depth communication.

            not fair into roses or a scent such helium or a delicate habit going right. the feeling of a saint such deeper relations while fretting ghosts. but a kernel in a patch where granny once cast a spell. our behaviors in parentheses. our contempt in jars. where one says, “They don’t count.”

            such gray beginnings upon a feeling while men are dying. to be so close as never a bad thought to stumble upon incredible behavior. while it meant much, it meant so little, where a cruel reality in back at negotiations. to include us all to outfox us all while the writer is not clear enough.

studded wildfires or soft sadness or beauty in a small rabbit; a rasp to negativity a closet one to emotions or a crane atop trauma; such whispering hope or nonsensical hope or a person at love with imagination; true to its root, so many hurdles, while wanting something he couldn’t just ask for; those rivers in jungles those longer caves while pets become small humans.

to see your face to need more than could expect as some creature below his self-portrait. by cultic excuses by tender mistakes as watching for something fictitious. pure baffling boats into pleasurable pity while most are made miserable.  

I’d Save The Reader Years

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