it
hurts to see that way such chakra levels too deranged to fit society. some
death in extent or art in detriments such perils to create; a slavish rung a
ringing caprice so soft into creation. the fall bounces it comes to a halt some
essence the way in stillness—as souls cramped inside such hyper-fierceness such
fields afar—while running a mistake slipped confines. too delicate for life so
sensitive while we occupy a space; as remote pigeons or ramming attentiveness
where assumption looks for regions. too
accepting or aggressive while people are changed by encounters. woods for fires
gases for fumes or violins for captivation; to have what we seek to go so extensive
too low to never arise—as combative spirits at war calls so deliberate by crass
horizons; no rhyme or reason just fluidity so sweet as too close to actually
see; where names are waters or fresh essence grieves such nice ways to
disregard lives. by drums slamming by guitars raging so much a peaceful
release. outward atonement but
internal chastisement while literature is of importance to a select group. our
days with a feeling, or winding empty space, to come back to our feelings; such
redundancy in essence such beauty in a flower to raise by flavor or to uncage
at that moment—soaring dusky countryside so cloudless at peaks in minds such an
early arrival. misty fragrances at paved morals while each custom sounds
inventive—or an edgy stillness in a foggy resilience while to see becomes an
invite to verify; at inky darkness, or lucent light, while we have both
yearning for completeness: those roads made dusty those pebbles in sandals so
lit feeling a need for thunder.
