Too Holy To Feel Filthy

 

it would fly as right into me some venture or chord upon a heart-thought. while watching where death was lethal the kitchen was smoky. knee to an ottoman or carpet to a cheek with excellence nudging its resistance. I was keen on flowers they seemed gorgeous they always were couth; the flame in the bolt the fire in the man, he might court a flower. but something is afoot some ignescent sky something to muse by speculation. those tired anxieties those weary agendas as ghosts in our own lives. too many books while this is absurd but a good book clicks souls. so many daffodils or a polite jamesia at some ally two blocks north. (people. music. drugs and cadence. a soul feels it’s missing adventure.) but autumn is near those rays are glistening such a glint in a personality.

            I would watch her as she walked like swimming her aura was fluid. I would listen, as no one should, I would unbuckle spirit. a person becomes different, if rivers are drained, where we die of starvation. bridges burnt fires quenched while we never quench our furnace. a spasm in a conversation. a person races into overdrive. something said so delicate it never receives remedy. to hold pain to eat anguish to feel like a curse is growing inside. like an omen in ribs, or a dragon in a womb, frightened it might gnaw its way out.

            but I adored her or loved her until I couldn’t tolerate her.

            years would pass. I would meet her – as over and over again. she had new faces new styles but the aura, the essence, it was ever the same. more years would pass, a man became a monk, but dragged back into society.

            a soul surrenders, as it frets little, or fooling himself in order to feel like flying. caves in feelings. bashful but bold. adrift where cards are meant for reading.

            such colorful cries in such solace too holy to feel filthy!   

The Town Is Contemplating

 

I know not of hours it drifts in solace so uncured feeling normal. a mere paperweight or origami faces at dear salutes in London. I have not wanted to make excellence with every need to make perfection while disillusioned concerning some lesson. the mania was pantomime or vocal as it might trespass; or transgression made affable in a net for sinning. if touched I might scream if sundry into pieces I might plead. so fresh it hurts as knowing liaisons where excellence was its miracle.

upon a Jewish gown, abroad an island, Plath might unredeem our carriage. or Sexton might cry, an acidic charmless tear, with angst on its trail. I don’t want understanding. I don’t need elocution. I need for relationality, and then, absence.

it’s not in place, some room inside, where she might be devilish if spoken to abruptly.

            the foot of the roof, as inside-outside, or stuccos at art a window that died. our upset faces while it hurts, but she knew her reactions.

            a chair supports indifference she might have vomited it was dung to face to hear my luxury. as hated for color or despised for dreams where a person’s functionality is like shitty rhetoric. I have run out of petitions, I have engulfed her provisions, it feels odd to surrender so early in life.

            sullen papier-mâché or turquoise sexual damage as one is wanted to destroy his insecurities.

            every season like autumn every auburn leaf like a mistake or raven mane attached to inaccessibility. those tacit charms those ruby eyes while surprised deaths would taste but sweet.

            I would a beach or Shri Lanka while we were chasing sunshine lotus. at christic beginnings or sins held captive, while memories sickle into damnation.

            a manic man might trespass gates. he might eat of fruits from skies. he might love, but essence was selected his charm. an old ponderosa a country in Arkansas or a woman from Tibet.

            such poetess cities if drained of petty shit, as to acknowledge a poetess is bad ass.

            maybe in a novella maybe those fingers or maybe in a novel – to ride horses to wear leather or to discard a satchel; maybe to feel existence to love like lazy up and until awakening filled with vengeance. those morbid luxuries those morose joys, while content with happiness passing. such an ambulance such a diabetic injection as certain to have lived before.   

By Existential Love!

 

(the justice in tragedy as far away from self, such a delicate ending.) I trivialize meaning I refute grandiosity at wars daily. I take to nakedness such an architect so much permission to be silent. just a minute, was lights on, you know my name. a lamp wincing a bulb flickering a smoggy/smoky room. the filth of the beginning the angst of touching while it disappears swiftly. so alphabetical, such zigzagging, upon a jigsaw puzzle. a blatant mistake while we hold for curtains in such a pain it feels too delicate. such zeal in zest such feelings in favors as fevered for alimony. a marriage in a ghost a million for a house or a trillion for a woman. so decent in appraisal so coarse in what was found, while a man pleads forgiveness. the flux of balloons sometimes atop and floating or below and grieving; those chocolate eyes, or vanilla skies, while most have settled into lethargy. such a languishing voice so seductive while so sad. a depressed feeling a musical apathy at lakes in crimson – the piano on its ocean those cargos as florid such Nike’s for a deceased beauty. too much a grave for Linda at a party with London as presumed I would write a memoir. so assumed in you like a man earned you while it was roses to gain entry. sure into serum certainly into salience addicted to hips, derrière, and thighs; a face as voiced a soul as poetic or prose as too sickening. a pear for breakfast a nectarine for lunch, out of energy begging for entrance. as ghosts floating as skiing in sunshine while palming snow. a living spirit a woman in spirit while some adventures are glorious. fire in havens or thinking as on purpose, to tap into one while did it for another! upon a violin or maybe a cello while strings seem so polite. a wind in art a gift come purple while loving you would drive insanity. so blessed to achieve so written to succeed so palatial in a scream. as concluded but to ask, would it be by existential love?    

Vacuuming Curtains

 

if ever I loved a damsel, let sweet breath testify, or fail its endeavor. certain dialogue or uncertain soul made guilty for asserting self. such dying indifference, I must care more, for uneasiness stresses the calming spirit. so dry in its pool. so livid in its quietude. such vacillation in its linear voice.     it was anxiety to love you, such syrupy torture, where emotion is sticky. we might die at evening or such beauty at sunrise while so fearful of being alone.     something amazes me, our hesitance to fly, such joy reflected in anguish. to have lived in mind, or suffocating insufferably, alongside such incomplete happiness.     if ageless we seem immortal. if dying we feel temporal. as nerves churn into distance.     I was at needs to disbelieve science, or running feet to skies, while life seemed different for you.     some incomplete love something damaging but filled by necessity.

            winds speak of hurting at dams fretted by emotion while snug in tears laughing suddenly. but a soul is so much more, the furnace might exhale, or the ceiling might float away. if a person supplies and never withdraws each might manage something pantomime. as seeds germinate or attitudes ferment our sullen joy is vibrating.

            what type of flower? a passive zinnia. or a booming begonia.

            what hurts more – the attraction, the inclemency, or the old friendship?

            I listen until it cried. I played naïve until it was laughter. such un-comfortability in knowingness.     but off into ether as acclaimed in helium while something creates life out of deaths. a socket in souls a fusion in screams as endurance might bless the desperate. a humbling smile or an arrogant aura where one is frantic but fearless.  

            cages or tombs or boxes; such are dreamt as omens; while we knit feathers.

            if ever I loved a damsel, I seem unsure, but failure to attach like dying without you. to need consumption, but too weak for consumption, while angered at not feeling consumption. or to plan in direction, as this is its limitation, while humans are complexity.

            I see in textures, some semblance of infinity, while uncertain of the core identity. so close to pathological or so normal at manipulation while we might call this survival.

             a soul carries a walrus or a mind inhabits a cobra at some fairy tale island – where things are correct while appearance is deception but a skeptic might say, this is our understanding.

            I was more deeper thoughts, generated by intensity, at some castle made contemplative – those thorns grow wildly, they ignite from beauty, we might grip a stem until we snatch away. such mizzling mist. such cartoon angst. while one might disown himself.

            made life flesh as insides are more complicated or at times feeling like a sepulcher. thunder at night, seated in solace, upon a thought to say, “I love you.” so temperamental. so iffy. so close we can’t tolerate the vacuum. as soaring to others, feeling depleted, while discovering using is akin to surviving. it hasn’t substance. it oozes out of its sphere. one is grasping at vapor.

            such curious eyes, such devastating beauty, while soft communication is always intimate.

            upon a slingshot into atmosphere I catch us falling.

            such silky robes or gowns fraught by infinity at an encounter proving it must deteriorate. as lightning rains or trees sway, we sit at bark. our private savannah our beating thoughts so arrested by what might have existed. I retreat or concentrate on activity while fire splices uncertainty. the hopes a mind generates the beginnings of an era or subtle aches demanding resurgence. but a man with flaws or a woman with irritation at perils to exist. to have lived where it was gorgeous or to have choked where it became nuisance.

            I flit across essence or fly in meditation such a recognition of our concentration. as sitting close to breath, or touching fabric, or petting some island I must egress.

We Revoice Our Nails

 

om softer into internal sarcasm at ruts or rusts. by dynamite as uncomposed a palm for nailing. long into unrest so unappealing so filled with dust. particles in gusts or salvation on layaway while we pawn integrity. so enlove with consciousness so warred over embarrassment at a stranger needing forgiveness. permission to exist a hankering to live so pure into filth. a soul might love you, orchids speak essence, or a lotus becoming human. sundew sweat into a glass of temporal guise such admiration for clarity. it was breath or sullenness so perfect in segments.

            bugs eat plants. humans eat each other. souls eat wisdom.

            it must be love, for days are vague, if but more tender gates. through terrors to understand others, it comes this way. so objective while personable a person gets a strange feeling. so erased from existence, such nonpermanence, while evidential in polite coffee.

            such a race those fences such a sword our light if but to ignore such doubt.

            became cynical where we rob each other, those first experiences are vital.

            an ocean cactus a desert skeleton – we try to locate ourselves. if tomorrow is today yesterday is tomorrow at dams held together by a rose.

            historical clouds, they have limbs, such a turquoise pain. barking in her kitchen, a tabby in her quarters a parrot on the settee. some singsong chant some omen in daylight so concerned with sudden dread. to relax in journey, to un-trigger our ghosts, where loving art made human.

            so much sunshine upon a wailing interior while something enjoys its coffin.

            too much in you as to let go while we never had much.

            a poodle at grass. must be unsettled. a minute passed – the fellow vomited.

            signs we signal or absence we feel at playgrounds waiting for our turn. a man would envy innocence, he might condone innocence, where he wanders innocent distress. troublesome walls, so tender, so close enough to harbor anxieties. a cured soul is a happy spirit while new horizons are struggling.

            fisheyes in an aquarium a time to reminisce, so deprived of longing until departure. those levels of firebrand or fierce into quickness so deliberate our hugs. if living is free, we pay otherwise, where touching agony might become freedom.   

The Roof Gave Eyes

 

I was at a rocket soft into unholiness such robbery such trials. a feeling in a hospital as dreamt of perfection while a man is wild over hunches. a bit paranoid, but not then, while one disclosure disposes a soul to dungeons. an oaken Cross to bear my weight as adaptive or delusional. so much these years, as wondering, if hell is existence. a state of mind he said, but what about closeness, I often feel like them. a banner in seas a scream in skies so abused it felt normal. at the nave of its navel, addicted to her scent, so withered from her praise. a deadman at tears while too masculine to utter defeat. a point by breakage a film inside where it seems too delicate. a bit numb and looking while a person will play the lute; to hate sentience, to admonish greatness, or to pretend they never heard the bass. turnstone faces or triggered friction while tired those fractions. so abased like reliving if but those pianos; to feature a dream to model an art where most people are want to ignore you.

            the plaint the pelt the freeway. at a distance, while I watch you, it seems a bit dreary: those pictures as memories as listening to one with true cries. a lying maniac a lying fool, even lying where souls are wide awake. it never stops it moves forward with screams in shadows.

            I would praise Passion so unfiltered inside but life kept kicking cans.

            so dear to believe. so happy he loves you. so selfish to ignore it all.            

            a feud in a horn a saxophone in a drum a heart in another heart.

            the pain was its curse. the feeling while they search. if but to reduce one a little lower. or so charged to love one, like a promise from oceans, at a dear riddle. a weft in weaving a kit in mechanics where we see as we wish to; so deep those years. every man needed you. we soon regroup. but one was silent. he paid attention. he wanted you – as more a wife, he ignored the past, he put in for ownership.

            I admire him. for sex is not love. where two come together and have children.  

 

Absurd Clawing

 

you could not as you would not such begging in spirit. new bedsheets old bloody diamonds such fear in courage – those maps as internal a heart or external those skies – as deceased or bodies falling to arrive at an entrance. cheap polyester vows or dependent love while a man wants more of creation – a bowel speaking a spoon yawning a fork split in identity. so abstract so cured while edging into a fount. headfirst into you sprung on invisibility or such assessment by encrypt womb.

            the firehouse lights into its core so wild how we respond.

            too much to sustain so harsh our adventure at depth science. a mind saw, a handshake, such deep affliction. as inadequate souls while existence is by shadows into a creek filled with algae. those geese eyes of running into screams but Love is too gorgeous. a murmur in a den a whisper in an ear so given to sensing far too much.

            it becomes passive or aggressive or somewhere in between.

            a person ages such dear reality while pain becomes a striptease. some chauffeur appointed to seasons while no one is at the steering wheel. pausing as we die or opening as we close our stomachs filled with our existence. a cry in wolves as to adore wolves if but something that would vitiate attraction. a gut in lions a leopard in brains such clawing such heaving!

            I felt lopsided such purpose in hours at a table re-scripting past times. an oldie as in blues a confused soul where we lose parts and pieces.

            I ate sea-feelings or drank raw emotion as to sense such destruction in our happiness. as a mechanic mind or a professor’s satchel at lemons for breakfast.

            what is the backdrop? where did she come from? has she always been coddled?

if to know a little of it, or to churn with evidence, while she must refuse life!

            a Smirnoff. a cigar. a reason to say no!

            I examine seams or threads or keys. in me such steep rivers or away from me such absurd clawing, or in a dream made naked such dear insincerity.

Participating In Alienation

 

we examine at length those trials that made existence. a flying fret of feelings or some grain mill so garnished as fit for awkward. too much passivity. we search for middle ground. where most are raised to exert self … despite, trampling or hooves tearing goads to explosions fighting for freedom. most might own others so hectic its hut its haven … an odd word, but measure indoctrination, where it hurts but one can’t fight back … such training in horrors while abused it feels normal insomuch as, a daughter and mother. or intense auras, a house in weaving, where aggression is made consensus.

            like a rook a man is pushed like a pawn a man is sacrificed.

            our ladies are at wage wars or running companies, while receiving alienation.

            our poets are struggling. walls are communicative. wires are epidemic.

            as creatures straying into nights or failures determining worth, or a father late to participate. jute to bind us or glass to define us to pages to rewrite us. hymns for slavery or tiles for redecoration or festoons for holidays. if but to decode lights if but to reopen doors if but to try at it one more time. such dear unforgiveness … for a soul hurts her heart … a jinni in summer!

            keen eyes so aloof for reality is dreadful.

            social dynamics or coarse persons while stripping you is better than accepting you. so skeptical, or pessimistic, or cynical – all of which are philosophies.

            I once sat in a mall. I was so inordinate. a nice word for incapacitated. a woman was trying, but I couldn’t avoid it, I didn’t permit my hand. such gray horizons, a soul at your arc, or rights given through indoctrination. those trials we adventure those pains we garner as creatures trying to escape weaknesses. to have ideals to leap to defenses while defending self is illegal.

            surefire agony or anguish or estranged from our bulwark. to love as needing in some critique, total protection. but ruined enough, to find hope, while sabotaging our empire.

            such innocent/coquettish beginnings. or famished familiarity. over many tears!       

Have Imagined How We Treat The Temporal

 

a tile caught a memory the vague abuse the way we train each other; such monsters so cute so intense. I would love to go, as some amusement park, just admiring all sunshine – every particle sure disbelief as never a creature touched havoc. pass due or flipping iron so much to abuse each other. a laughing man, an automatic man, a bit there in age. so much to win it happened so late as a blooming mistake. such amatory feelings or aeipathy heights while a chitzsu sits close to your heel. too much as stepping backwards too tipsy to unheal. so close to a primal creature such passion those days, I must admit, it’s not as crucial. to abuse us to adore us as long as it’s clear – the ruling star the cursed scream into you like Jesus to Magdalena. indeed, but so what, a smile went too injustice as creatures hiding a thought or two. I play socialite as awkward so sipped out. I ran a marathon, a bit different, Love is a mean miracle. to notice subtleties, oh so crucial, so critical, while in shower a tear might fall; we never know, the eyes are red, we assume it was the water.

            I can’t believe you, a man is astonished, and you say it’s normal. like kindred angst or banister suggestion, such are needs for investigation. wrists on trial, a threat to silence a gut in morgue. operose ambition a gut for seething a maniac for purchase. but Love was irritated, or Love was paranoid, or Love is actually normal. a dear suggestion, we must admit, a normal person shows most emotions. as never to forget. it will not be nice. while we push for forgiveness.

            I was a box. I was let out. the first woman I saw, I wanted!

            so much to live for. a dessert in a brain. a cactus in a heart.

so launched with you, as deliberate to please you, as thinking it’s never enough! an influx a herculean fiat such a dictum – so Argus Eyed so alive while losing our connection. I surmise a bit, in this excellence, we have a time with feeling complete. the mind runs, it raids interior it seeps into your sphere. a quick voice or something creative while nuance is ever a magician.           

Two Met, Those Phoenix Cries!

 

so feuded inside a softer violence while adoring is close to controlling. the banquet those carpet screams while the ceiling fell at 5 a.m. so much gnosis as knowledge in me while I can’t insist on validation. I have a spirit, oops, a bit grandiose, but I’m a damn locomotive! I hit the sun I melt I become a firebird. I relax I go crazy I come back years later. so much a dream so infused, Love, while touching was obliteration. a face in mourning a bird in screaming so delicate asking may I go nutty! a fool in me a decree in me while never a man kept his honesties! blood blue or burgundy phantom

so spatial so hectic so undelivered!

            as but a monster, so humble, a countenance vitiating everything he earned.

            those passion aches or a sure explosion, why is Love such a creature?

            revived from deaths or indebted to souls so close to endure the sharing.

            I poured a gallon I ate a machine so cold where insults are galaxies.

such a foul mouth, such a promiscuous soul, while asking for utter memories. I was a maniac or an island no one knew I was studying. it was embarrassing. I lied to a man. it was so incriminating he held to it for dear life.

            so jasper, Love, so neat, Love, have I met, Love?

            surety in security, its face value, this is a lonely, depleted, and miserable man.

            I ran a number it was long range – I was told he harbored a demon.

those months growing tomatoes. those minutes making decisions. a man goes crazy to imagine such audacity. but crops have summoned, reaping is in season most go batty to hear redemption. a fragrant ache a reduced pain where another has replaced all of us!

            it becomes tales or heads, it’s a life decision, while kingdoms are suffering from violence.

            I was looking I was innocent it felt so recreated. the music was material those feelings caught fire, in a haze of mirages. I put it there, an inner projection, without any damn evidence. I was disappointed, but in whom, self, or something it couldn’t fit?  

Tense Existential Chasing

 

the sun isn’t up, but a smile came, it went clawing rain. by former clauses or new provisions to have come to you late hour. too specialized too familiar we love for mental engagement. so Asiatic so colorful as a heart would beat ten meters into its cave. drums rage or cymbals clang such grape peaches. to bend gusts to palm fire or to suffer airs. our minds adoring but a woman’s disbelief as placed too high to reach.

            it churns as it grows the birds are in mourning. so sparsely silent so tickled by emergence so converted by angels. by sweeter condition the beauty in the rain our minds aloof from absurdity. to have worked 12 years, to have become a neurologist at too much science to live. our countenance blurry our souls with glee while a memory might cast us sullen. so perfected in white a bit of oil for scalps a tinge of sorrow for attraction. as coarse quickly if slighted gently most overt essence remains uncaptured.

            a soul in fantasies where some may listen with sparks chasing our spirits.

            it was life so new so cordial. it was pain so free it felt delivered or eyes so pure it was disbelief. accustomed to shades by gray. as to clump too many into a pile. while one might die to see us smile. berries in wines or cherries on pies or breadnut at 3 a.m.

            so blessed in soul so many diamonds in physical so cursed to feel; as educated to dance such sweet victory while life has something incredible. nectar such sugar or wrath too vital while anger is used to transform pain. as such skylights or social shoji screens where most remain invisible.

            too much to ignore too little to adore with tense existential chasing.

This World Isn’t for The Living!

 

a mirage for me looking at her I was so messed to glory! those Egyptian eyes those at mercy such stature, a Kenya essence. too confused I saw it on the news such cages for determined soldiers. too subtle to believe too wrinkled to perceive a man might die looking for you. such a romantic at mystic poetry while longing to head to India. our American souls our American virus while we seek to work it out. so ascetic or at blues so reborn tomorrow!

            I was late at Africa or dining with Europe so uneducated – the story its saga as it claimed his intestines. oh Jesus, it must work in our favor, it must feel good! but Love was power or terrible intention while a man is slow at times. too much for God, too limited, while paradise was found in excellence. a cure for lovers a midnight seahorse a curse for momma. I bled as touched gravel a man held a drop of blood. those days are survival the penal system was designed, women become contemporary slaves.

            a bit contrite a bit anxious so uneasy. the tar was feathered the gut was kicked a man lost his integrity. such walks into offices such bars at bars another to get right!

            oh deep Scar, such a tall tree too many rings to count.

we sung an unsung song. we wade through atmospheres. mother is too close to un-drawer. a film in me a five-year-old at an agreement.

            I thought it was love I cried with Enoch it was hell confessing to Huldah.

            those keys those alligators I skate a penalty laughing like we won!

            the cash was lethal the hunger was rapacious those souls—all—were incredulous! too much to insist a man lost his life we conclude: This world isn’t for the living!  

The Shadow Mourns

 

the trumpet for triumph the blood bleeding those traffic excursions. a green light a hostile culture while most are disposed of. so smelted or extracted while too much pash becomes passé. an interior arête a gray lamp such watts in a simple dismissal. to flit or fly while it’s said as something askew. such body a man loses senses as something probes his memories. so accursed so waffled as moving into sunrise. sipping from her navel such giggly laughs so ticklish. such a red light so seated such loud music – as moved to wiggle or charged in spirit a man doing close to 80 mph. too much sorrow so beautiful oh mother rest in peace! a father for hurricanes a typhoon for remembering or an old friend as a blessing at the time.

what was it inside a cocoon while we exploded an industry?

            a dusky crucible seated in darkness Love is purple! to meet as to worship while most beginnings seem intimate – as quite personal as recruited by phantoms so charged to obliterate doubts. a glossy fire a blue flicker such foibles seem perfect. a chance to laugh a miracle to harp while so close so soon we back the mess up! a simple dialogue like faraway mystics while the alps seem a good space.

            upon a linchpin, I gave the key, too remarkable to deceive! running naked abused in Christ as affected by intelligence. so embarrassed so elevated while havens have been destroyed. a light in ceilings a room as made special so fused to believe.

             a firkin of charm a fret in feelings we damn near died!              

 

Perception Is Rawer Than Facts

the complaint is obvious those damages hurtful where everything is wrong. an inner voicebox a pair of binoculars or ravished so treated it becomes trauma. so close to a message as an engine rebuilt while it purrs like newness. manufactured identity a key to survival, if but we knew what others perceive. awakened to delicious appetites a fair rumination at aesthetics in such bewilderment; those cash prizes or how we hate ourselves where filth feels comfy. a mistake in glory a body in misery as tears fall during climax. a weasel in sheep’s clothing or an innocent out-of-towner, while it seemed so straightforward. but life is angles or history was hangers if but to know great-great grandparents. (it wasn’t long ago. each has a space. while differences are easier to identify.) the festoon is addiction those cultic habits so sincere about living. you never knew me. I noticed while watching. as so dictated by inheritance. it’s not merely essence, nor a habit, it has become traits and characteristics. it harbors resentments it harbors attractions it has a hard place for itself. an inner image outsoars reality while a person is still dying. a riot of trumpets a dear mistake while they’ve become numerous. so much to be normal, as according to normal, while it means being included; as to locate truisms, to disagree and ousted, or reminded by color of femininity.

            sunrise mythical or orchestra our lives as souls given to existence. (I get worried about people. it seems such hurt without recourse. I wonder now why Love so strong willed.)

            siphoned so early, those natural tendencies killed, while I feel a bit thankful. exactly, a weird interpretation, but have you seen the myriad reasons to feel like emptiness? I wrestle with ghosts. I disagree with humans. it seems so unnecessary – but we give it life.         

 

While The Sky Fires!

 

a man will die trying to prove justice. like an interior gibbon, nothing is wrong – the song I sung so disastrous so doubtful – you make me feel! a deadened person those screaming lungs while she broke warmth. an ontic tree, an oaken city, so desirous of one promise.

            those petals cry into arms such together upon soil – the skies bleeding, I use to love you, as a soul adores granny – so religious as captured unto it matters less – sure fire sure damage to worship you – such a catastrophe such oceans un-graved while exhumed from selfishness. such numen addiction such pelagic angst too much to disbelieve – as torn sausage or fried bacon so icy like frost on a latte. those glacial or glib eyes. those gelid-hot purgatories. so sweet it was beautiful. so much to call you to phone invisibility or maybe a rescue on a sad day – the alcohol, Passion, it bleeds me, Passion, I know you gave it a rest, Passion! buildings out to earth or promises out to seas while upon a ship in his living room. some tendency as so religious to want like living your hand. I feel sick such a problem while I found a new portal – our apples on tangerines upon tequila / our vices on plates upon a bad dream. to adore with weather, to curse with water, while so much we practice our ignorance. but you crave as I can’t fulfill, while so much more has led to hunger. tiptoeing over slime mud, or feeling like a mud flap, when one arrived in excellence. so sweet its wild, so frantic it teases so neat it’s now oblivion.

            intellectual fungi or too much pain, I grow intolerant of you. I try to live but I feel so flat while a little to get it flying. my eyes water. we have many rules. I abide by too many. I heard a sentence, I thought to a joke, but it wasn’t hilarious. so many words. I’m lost in smiles. I couldn’t want you while building. a sure joke a framed issue where some are at love for destiny. a road lizard, this crazy beast, aside a female ant. indeed, those thoughts those grains such sweet-smelling wheat. if but to die with you as years evolve in you, if but to taste like breadnut, the ingredients of triumph!

            does it matter certainty in winds sure drifting into purple – the film screams those anxieties are soothed as for final falling into essence – the bodies we share those angers we harbor while knowing you has become its miracle bargain – those fretted flames the paining piano those keys typing, ringing, slamming interior gavels.     

Serotonin Sunshine

 

I phantom a great shark, those whites in eyes, our courage to utter our goodbyes. such drastic lullabies ahead of something behind you or captive to something ancient. our Phoenician roots so close to feral so abandoned to Ethiopia. such wishes or Tibetan energies while we harvest the wrong dietary. I was six those days. I gave granny a kitten. it outlived my adolescence. strict ambiance eyes, responding to sirens, a soul was uncorrected. as rebels dictate loyalties, or women seem sided, as a man gives, he might not receive. we sense a spark, our dopamine races, we make our decisions. I was five those months. mommy taught me lessons. I was adult by twelve. so much observance while girls played seeking in a force incomplete.

            the thesis is the antithesis of itself. I keep saying it, because it seems deep, every anything depletes itself – or better, the very utterance denies its authenticity. so coarse on ourselves. losing innocence, we refute clarity, but does innocence denote honesty? I would argue, in my training, innocence causes people to lie. never a head game, it wouldn’t be right, but imagine a perfect person devoid of innocence. so it aids, it protects itself. it needs to be felt that way. what might it do in a land accusing it, while it must remain pure? we surmise a little. if ousted, it might plunge itself. if vetted, it might grow resentments. Damn those urges and behaviors!  

            the author has omniscience. this is troublesome. but writers know a project guides us – unless one takes precautions. but omniscience is a beast. we can’t discard it. while we have trouble maintaining our habits. bottom line: one does as selected, one loves as compelled, and we latch on dependent upon our needs or desperation.

            a side bar I suppose. a bit of anguish as decoded. or a film with French titles.

            a collective unconscious. a nice habitual. or a mean person pointing out – every damn inconsistency. I close with this: humans are afforded contradictions, even excuses!   

Some Pasta Is Too Salty

 

like garlic for cleansing or toothpaste for upkeeping such vital, unavoidable inter-state-ism. I have gathered berries the world enjoys wine the soul is its winepress. a sacred ism a vicious stress as associated with grime. so dark in lessons the company we kept while it’s tell these days – if getting close a person needs courage it isn’t a clear rung; so bathed in jelly so late to burial or too early for an interview. those caiman eyes those caiman genes, while we must feel cursed!

            I would relax to just listen with hearing aids. to watch a spirit as it becomes slimy while it frets itself. or honest creatures accursed by temperament so gentle it kills them.

            Love was religious in such a gust swerving through power-sources; our tawny skin, such a big thing in our culture, while we despise racism. but justified in each level our needs to discredit logic. it belongs to shadows, it makes no sense, it’s designed to manufacture itself. well, I took a look, like reading a bible, I found something to it.

            leopards can’t undress. panthers are reclusive. lions play in silence.

            I carry bears, they seem like gems, while it’s so heavy a soul might see something. unconscious debates while one is uncomfortable, where another is a mini-pained-soul.

            we cannot win with decency. or we mustn’t shift integrity. while Little Simeon became a maniac. from city to city, less than remorse, debating while motives were necessary. a psych's nightmare. a thrill in its reality. while condemned for behaviors.        

            such structure in its opposite while forcing its music – withering come investigation.

             a man met a woman, they became intimate, he barrowed what he intended to take. a mistake in a garden. a woman desiring clarity. a man hesitant to acknowledge his part. indeed, as shifting ships, where one knew a few things. he would tell, they would mourn, they would have relations. this is life. divulging secrets. trashing friendships. if but to barrow and disappear.

            I do drift. a crocodile’s antennas. while another claimed virgin until she turned forty.

            the passage is blocked the gates are locked, while would she unblock the passage and unlock the gates?

             I cannot fathom the skies. they always surprise me. such salmon upstream is hell down mountains. so meaningful. so deliberate. to wonder how one saw us!

Febreze for Behaviors: Maybe One Answer

 

tailored to love souls or at minimum feel curiosity. it’s better than intrigue some passing indigo our old selves most self-interested. looking like lost, or feeling frost frantic, in angst aware of ascetics. a mere cartoon a soothing tone such shade, timbre, or decoration. we shouldn’t, but we guard infatuation, don’t get mad, but we look at ladies in tights – those yoga pants, those hidden-obvious contours – as carving your name so captivated, I might be wrong, but Love likes sex, needing more than sex. so great our hubris, so deep our haughtiness, while needing enthrallment. a tattoo as for life, a scream as for justice, while just for sex satisfies something. a centimeter into crosswise frets or a kilometer running home at dear-dying to have something unprepared for us – a man unsaid an emotion unborn while a fetus sits in cosmos.

a Sprite a cigarette so carved by our brains. a little time feeling selfish. it isn’t a crime! while most intuitions stumble into a greater secret: soft touch when it hurts, southern eyes on northern soil, or it must be good, of value, while we have each other. it takes surrendering, such as to arrive, where many refused to feel you – some pained monopoly, knowing days are desecrated, where one expects most unyielding purity. I can’t be mean, when scents change, but I’m quite sensitive to perspectives. underneath roots or soil bleeding as thunder struck its tree. but dough to rolling pins or noodles to sauce or rice to broth; a fair friend as broken plans while something feels freer – such as manumission or seasoned consumption so battled by private miracles. sure clemency or chaos brewing, one stays open nightly. a dream defender a vision knitter such an imaginary safeguard. some fantast. driving through San Francisco. headed back to Los Angeles.   

Pouring Into An Empty Voice

 

I kneeled down one morning. it began to upchuck. it poured for minutes. I thought about Bhakti, or combinations, those canyons are filled with estuaries. upon bigger brains, tendered by grandiosity, at battles with lion fish. such fine arts or chainsaws at invisibility, most are angered with the cosmos. but we sip merlot or watch an inner eye our aches filled with intuition.

            I reflect on sanity, its thinning lines, while undergoing upheaval: a steep climb up a steep staircase under a steeper sky. close to a reef shark, or roaming memories, while we decipher things late into its war; as bellicose suffocation, so charged to behave, where passion suffers from depression. if to love you, like normality suggests, we might become miserable.

            it opens to souls it closes without warning it speaks harshly with softness.

            I watched bull ants while untamed by intrusion to realize wrongness. a person holds much. it builds up. same person does something self-incriminating.

            those years in jars or born weaving so adolescent with heart trouble.

            I kneeled down one evening. pressure was seeping. I entered unaware of what comes out. such a secret for most, such an opening for some, as it often occurs after passion. such dear hurting, surefire aches, such as trampled often.

            lavish fire, or an endless pool, seated at the skyline. sweet memories touched by rawer essence while we try hands at resilience. to live in us or to trust in us what more is such preciousness? bound to constellations walking wires such welts upon a teenage fever.

            as regathered such primroses as purposed by your smile. to kneel in flame as morphing into melting such Divine Water. dipped or sprinkled but rinsed as a confession – such sanction or Blake is chains if given most eternity – our motion moving our miles between us, as creatures ever getting closer.

            welcomed to mythos or angels in hindsight betting on a kangaroorat. born to a scorpion lost to a wilderness too unheard to develop a mighty voice.    

Mental Motion Miles Closer

 

it comes like a dream, a prehistoric genetic, what’s tentatively denoted as a feature. scattered/memorable screams, over or many at essence, so gathered so cleansed so distraught. some see clearly others see through desire some are caving, looking tender, appointed to more screams. the daughter’s battle, the father’s agony, for we need to fix what stands aloof. a good day a floating blade of grass, a palm catching herself, a miracle to adore like a sunny night. so casual so polite, so mean so irresistible, while some need total reclusiveness – those heart feathers those leaves our yard on a tree so ancient it becomes treasured. such chief sensations, as filled calligraphy into alps fretting iciness. we’ll be agitated. while we know our behaviors. we’ll never be so clear as realization. so many dispositions our prejudgments our genetic interrogation.

            dry skin or roomy anguish such sorrow at a settee. or good joy a testimony of absence while it asserts and disclaims itself. “I love you, is like, I could not love you.” a bit of disbelief, where understanding is separated, while one asserts a rabidness – as also claiming an anti-rabidness. such a quartet, those parts, the written legacy!

            many aren’t interested – in semantics, truths, or reaching beyond their preferences. or some are wrapped in exercise, or prayed into a frenzy, while a contour speaks a knitted window.     we don’t go for that. we wouldn’t never be like that. as spoken, it comes to trials like that.

            so adrift as pondering sensuality a treasured galaxy. a flute late evening, a lute aside a piano, a gallery of art. so much a harp as pleading for understanding while one says, “Can’t you forgive me?” or to know a weakness, as one irrefutable, where it’s too incorrigible to scratch-out. so inexplicable so much a damaged edifice while sweet into a few feelings. we wrestle at times. not with loving, but in examining why we shouldn’t be willing. a compartment in composure to comport as behaved such beauty in consistency. a valley of stoics at steep sacrifices or courting Athena – an art in Sirach a cavity in skies such neatly trimmed exospheres. to die with you or living good with you our alibis always with precision.

            but a dream a fly trap a firefly – at tales flipping coins or pitching quarters.   

Lawns & Leaves

 

I yawn a bit. I unwind a bit. I take to a feeling, just a bit.      have we seen an unhappy ladybug? I think they're a bit sad. determined destiny is dreary.     a little wistful, sun is on sabbatical, a man is homesick – for emotions such measures where rain falls at our feet.     a lake is dismal or disconsolate, if I gave my love, please cherish my love.     a tether to aches a bleak outcome while we cleave to maturity. never realize something, it’s a sky-cave, we might feel disrupted. pavement frowns, we tread it we never say, Good morning!     a creek in its woods it might speak its silence; a goose in a pond, many geese surround, a goose is like a carnival.     subdued by expectations. moody with underdevelopment. or patient with what’s defined.     an interior yelling or burning firebrand aside an inglenook.     to thaw thick ice, or soften sullen fury, so framed in fashion.     I shan’t explain it, while planets move, it becomes right in due time. a certain style at life, by least resistance, while anger is in his bosom.     to wait where it hurts while we might be going too far – we might be taking advantage!     prayers sprout feelings are measured a man becomes his activities. so much a good time, so much a need, while it never mattered—you couldn’t change it, eating is inevitable, while some give it back. a person good with self, knowing his perdition, as living it through – such a man receives his mercy.     a bittersweetness a sour luxury where decisions are recorded. one will walk a line, listening closely, and write findings in another’s diary. eyes shift. days are oblivion, while memories connect dot-to-dot. too much damage they said, we have to savage it they said, we renew such newness. a soul is cheerful-cheerless, abandoned to perfect contradiction, a logical oxymoron. as souls sing or tortures are treasured, upon a feeling.       

When It Feels Like Creation! or Shewbread

 

love is phantasm or conundrum or plurality. indeed, a selfish arc a blasted brain so passed-out on a sofa. near an ottoman sits a purse, you bet not touch it! I lose self as engaged so sick over lovemaking. such a coy or shy or aggressive atmosphere. so seasoned, anything is right, while trying for dear existence. a spicy alienation a mournful happiness so much business so much straying while dreary becomes aggravation. upon a plum palming a sugarapple and talking shit! gazes’ glance by like a trance such ravishing outfits. a softer scent a dear perfume where most maniacs go wild. a slight finger a noticed discontent a vase of begonias – so sore concerning its existential so much magic while too exhausted to fight back. such a Kenya woman, with Israelian eyes, and Mesopotamia cheeks. a man loving an ancient woman, as enthralled by Jebusites or catching a European woman’s chance. so dark in this age, so caged by silence, while too bashful for the Queen. we don’t talk it, the psychical Jesus, we don’t abide it, the powerful woman. California Sidon, or Atlanta Africa, at sails so confused by Judas. but Love Is, as sick as devotion while I can’t promise more than what works. a cured creature an unsecure monument at something I need forever: never get lazy, never lose utter togetherness, never show it hurts too badly. a man was enlove, she switched obligations, as surprised he might still receive essence. a blatant offense, a sure apology, a repeat of different guises. by zeitgeist by practice by omega.

made me do right while doing wrong such a song for anatomy. so psychogenic so cursed while we plead something so secret it might last forever. Los Angeles Muslims as souls in humility while such power in certain women. a like for arcs such spirits so surrounded a choice must be protected. Those Asian customs those particular habits while one remains a chaser. such a famine where passé feelings are damaged. a man has something, a woman needs something, one gleans happiness from his Island.

Pieces of The Message: How is it Made Receptive?

 

I was a stomach ache addressed by maelstrom, menaced by misfortune. we don’t communicate often, we are Asiatic recluses, we sit in community debating alienation, a crown floats by. an inner court slams its gavel – a ruling is set. so much evilness. so many opalescent eyes. our gates our fates our raking leaves. I have a bag of berries aside a totem pole, I have blueprints. are they cogent, sturdy, or full proof – able to withstand falsification, or does it matter?     so tempestuous, so stormy, such a mudslide; as furious believers, un-sanctioning our habits, such aloofness seems evolutionary. but people of color, while we learn to love, we seem under a spell; some narcissistic template while engaged partly, insomuch as, we seem to have similar temperaments – aside from essence, or splayed by essence, it becomes a segment in action, but underpinning reality in subconsciousness. an energy underworld as attracted at moments or repulsed for a strange reason.

            an inner house an inrush of iridescence so confused so much to confined. spawning where unsettled while naked upon social swords. untimely deaths or slower justice as souls become conscientious objectors.

            next to a sleepershark a bit weary where some become fierce.

            by condition to unveil or years rummaging subconscious at a table filled by terrycloth. as creatures watching each other, or contenders vying with each other, or professors training pupils. to enter society, where no one knows the beauty, becoming faced with angry indifference. so much training or so little time, while a culprit unsettles harmony. too much to live through, much more to give, while we think of tattooing resumes to our faces. or a Spa overtaken, a family in essence, by un-fate to lose lifeblood. or a man screaming for BREATH where viciousness ignores mental signals.

            so easy to apologize, so much more to feel regret, while death becomes monumental.

            an Atacama Desert a place inside while many claim extrovert – roaming cities trimming hedges or planting sociality. as individualized humanitarians, coming into a sphere, where beauty spreads its pollen.

            we say so little while analyzing core facts while the message comes in pieces.    

Casual Courage

 

so wrapped in diamonds or set close in a teepee or at an orchard. those caves plumb inside, I needed them, if but to open. sparrows soar as sacred silence while sex is succession. wild-wild country. sullen sick cities. so charged with kindness. a fever in France such casual courage or better, such unconditioned conditioning. so much wilderness afar into a man’s mind, such emotion becomes a sylvan. thousands of ropes, a million knots, and so be it!

            sure into mystic animals such unrealized humans as born amongst flora. a region of politeness, or a feeling resisting smiles – the way we pass each other. where satire hides pain or wits are for escaping with so narrow a whit to move.

            we see it returning. we have different views. so we punish forbidden behavior.

            but more to art, like Byzantine portraits, or souls abiding by their set regiments – as curling into a wad or webbed in gossamer or watching silkworms. so much casual courage, relistening to Whitley, too much to ignore!

            more fantoccini in spirits, as referring to marionettes, while one would say, “Just use puppeteer!” something to it, I suppose, but we dance according to streams – we poetic as decoding where we unlock cosmic learning. such blocks so rich in relation, while many lost lives at railways. no connection. or maybe it says something. or maybe you and I are quite critical.

            the levy fractured, or broke, or most felt abandoned. we ask, with due respect, “How much more?”

            gut-fauna or wild canines while some have captured dingoes.

            it surprises me it speaks to me where some are wiser than me. a novel newcomer a novelty anima or an edifice built on faith. most are angered by that, they condemn that, they contemn souls – for life is made simple, where we know it as complex, while too much blindness disregards the work ahead. I agree. I need to see. I mustn’t get lost in passivity – but I’ll ask one question: In human dynamics, how much can one do legally, without consequence, in our huge box?