what goes on—in the
mind of—sloth, pride, or other deadly sins? loving ambition. loving pain. so
damn existential. loving psychiatry—just leave me alone—loving psychology. a
man with problems, wrapped in sulfone, so many damn winners—those eyes burgundy
my sin as goodness ate too many sakata(s). lost in deserts, hoping you listen,
they have serious complications. a deceased mother, it frightened my guts, no
longer a person understanding any damn thing. so crucial so mutual such a
wedding for a stressed agent. rode a streetcar aloft in San Francisco woke up
in realness. rode home, doing ninety, flying like I might get away. tires on a
lonely soul, an engine in a happy/struggling spirit, a valve inside a ghetto
agent. so dry. so wet. so eager. a mercenary as never an auxiliary, rolling
upon a cultic compound. laughing at it so different most are fully devastated. I
might get away longing into planets fingers into soil, a palm of mud, a chunk
of forgiveness, listening to a praying mantis. smoking like neutral. losing
like threshing. a proper little something from high school. we adored her guts,
we all wanted opportunity, to see how it manifests—to despise vision to dream
into a mission like chasing too many demons. the darkness the green lights
running or standing still. indeed I died. how else for the cycle? a lyric so
inside I can’t breathe. a resurrected man, an incarnated man, nothing I haven’t
seen before. so transmigrated such a crazy believer so high in a tunnel
falling. tumbling to weeds, tumbling to seas, so plumb into benthic oceans. so
much ambition. too much to support. many hate his guts. lemurs gunning. apes in
the city, gorillas in the country. aside a river, a slithering red eye, I would
die laughing with game.
