Saturday, February 27, 2021

The Audience Is Privy

 

so mad at lies so specific into convo while aloof filled with compassion. a night to drift a day to return fraught by grandiosity. divorced from self always jasper as dying to be alone. some wig some persona while thieves have claimed our monuments. but a jingle to green eyes or a feeling bleeding greatness while so conceived evidence means so little. father, a bad man, father never understood, but father knows mother. a gated horizon or chasing a star with a midday yearning. a sip for practice a sip for luck a sip just because. so vacuumed so distant, with a lover ten kilometers running. such a pendulum such a scar while I met something in me: he lies awake, he speaks in dreams, he judges quickly into a storm. so positive so energized while most have a difficult mission. the daunting journey the backwoods as static where much flexibility spills into discomfort. to get at illness, into a gut, a real soul feels like it’s churning.

 

I was a weird soul, always watching, with something speaking symbols. I was a weird soul, hanging with mother, she took many breaks. I was a lost soul, headed for a trail, or raging into a room. I’ve met many, too decent to ignore, too aloof to intrude. something’s in me some energy while qualification is self-sacrifice. we check in we analyze it was reaching to trespass. a gutty soul a muddy soul while rinsed at baptism. a priest at the séance a miracle at the brains, a feather in his pocket. a ring in a stump a trefoil in a patch a delivery too early. but a decent memory while eating ribs so confused about all the yelling. a noisy closet a chair for patients a teacher so roughly.

 

I close-in a shaded self a forward on disorder while perception points as arising in backyards. a fuse in self a driven machine where thinking seems correct. so aloof as from being wrong but a problem only in me. so jejune so trite so difficult to get through. a man at his loses as losing big where most have bypassed his grave. a man as next of kin a woman as sultry or oceans as wavy. to die forever while feeling awakened with an audience knowing my destiny.   

I’d Save The Reader Years

    The beat becomes sickness. A long crucible—a drilling ecstasy. I was losing focus, feeling forbidden, if to self, if to mirrors. So curs...