Sunday, March 7, 2021

Keeping Skies Hostage

 

upon 8.5 inches another room or 132 square feet we see existence. but a man with problems, momma bleeped him off, father saw ghosts—chasing storms but Love was white, it made for perfection. a black man, a crazed man, if but to be accepted. st8 organizers, it amazes, the way we arrive – at pudding or a different scent as treating women according to color. the room has a closet, I go into denial, I close its doors. the floor is bleeding the corners are dusty, the walls have webs. the ceiling is crops, the office is rumors, the woman is Jewish. such brain fog, such a million-dollar mistake, while chained to black history. so existential so ontological such a fight with skepticism … an uneasy creature but feeling damaged while I was never good enough – to imagine her plight where something is crucial if but all day for night praise. it meant nothing in a land of nothingness so presumed as a life partner. by vocation such hypocrisy an animal acting sophisticated-cages. so broken, God, while asking for love, but unwilling to change. a face at a podium a pew at miracles so palatial the way we lie. time waisted a gut busted a belt with blood on it. I wobble to church so intoxicated such mystic liquor. endless demonstrations or mental television while I don’t try to hide it. a love for minds a shore for kneeling, as they charge 50 dollars for U-Hauls. moving monthly, condemned to unrest, a bit shaken by our reality. at a voice some infrastructure while mommy existed the grave – so far into regions trekking New England where a child is catching visions. so penetrated at every angle while mouths starve or re-grave a brick as a mini friend. pure thrumming or dominoes while we stack what we see. such snag-wear or a raja’s problems while running through dreams became teleological. always at a turn forever unclogged while socially clogged – a cold alley a battle with drugs a feeling like needing a swig. those rooms those values those magicians. a damp swap upon a mayfly while raving over something abusive. some woman’s insignia as controlling his art but another component keeps skies hostage.

I’d Save The Reader Years

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