Friday, December 25, 2020

Christmas Is Different Now

 

I have less to say as more to assert where decency has been a long time coming. but trees are fresh or pine is redundant while souls continue to repeat our anxieties. by filmed rains to conduits of indecision such cryptic realities. to think by nuance such intimacy as we understand what intensity is; to know for tender surprise to laugh our thick masks such essence in a smile. anything but angst or anything but reality while aging becomes a project. 

the towerman is watching. some lady is screaming. she has lost her young.

I dismiss a piece of me. I just exit myself. it seems indecent to argue with a liar.

such a catapult or lacking feathers, such a hard crash.

but Christmas is upon us, such joy in waves, where true spirits are those innocent eyes. to laugh with glee, such overwhelming responsibility, where good days are cherished.

but adults recollect. we decorate memories. we coax a smile.

who would warn about nights in deliberation or sharing intimacies with some soul? everything so tender as dependent upon indecisions where I need us to play piano. to giggle or chance some dance in excellence. the beauty of the liar the soft body of the damsel or so delightful to outwit sullenness. those hours those glasses such the sound of opera. some orchestra softer as sacred or cursed for deeper frets. too alive when it struck, so damaged when it settled, while vying to rewind those tears. such salty droplets such rare repentance as speaking the soul’s dialogue.

I assert something casual, something insignificant shall ruin the unthinking soul. or a sullen secret as years between conduits where it’s hard to rekindle the innocence. we register probability in a world so with needs while essence is new until it settles. those interior baskets or darker realism but it was nice while I cherished our glory.

I assert friendship will be with shadows or trapeze wires or shaded moons. the angle of its soul those chandeliers just pausing; such rich beginnings with so few hours while we wager our eternity. to need magic in an a-magical world while fey seems so remarkable.     

I’d Save The Reader Years

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