a
tale knotted, an unknitted seam, days are most noisy, made silent.
hearts
made of muscle, tissue, phones, answering machines. feeling as it feels.
emotion as it blossoms. florets of currency.
removing
a costume makes a soul vulnerable.
dying
becomes systemic, living becomes patterns, behavior seems to make smaze.
if
thinking more, I might feel a soul; if detached, I might feel contradiction.
bathing
with sandpaper, grieving in quilt, synchronized, distant, only in cognizance.
such raw current, much disapproval, life isn’t framed by inertia.
where
do I go when dreams are inept?
what
is knowingness that fails science?
a
man walks a crucible. he falls low. when he arrives, many are shocked. he
selects what he loves; she agrees with his hopes, only giving furious flame.
a
mind made of salacity. a soul concealed by promises. it hurts when one comes to
life.
