I can’t contact
certain feelings; I can’t express them, they seem inaudible. I want to say
marvelous beauty, inside of brick castles, with claims made of certitude. I want
to outdo justice; each postulate feels uncertain, too much philosophy makes
love tenuous. I sound uncertain, dubious, tentative. I seem vague, unclear,
abstract. I speak of love, passion, togetherness, knowing couples come from
examples—those making it beautiful. I have a confession: I desire more than
attributes, affirmations, associations. that space inside, that confused,
clever entity, I want to capture that as mutual, coveting, converts—into long
horizons, speaking by condition, unveiling inaudible compulsion. it can’t
spell certitude. it can’t guarantee existence. it just compels undiluted
sincerity—spellbound sexuality. I sound impossible. I want our insides placed
on a table. I want to experience unadulterated closure. I must be crazy. most
are having fun. most relationships are expedient. I want immediacy—clear poetica—thrown
into flaming dependency. [for] a person is often unbelievable. I want to
believe in unbelievability. I need to feel humanity. so long at unclarity. so
divorced, splayed, from the work of my mind. confused about trust, vying for
integrity, disappointed in reality. closer to identifying purity. it isn’t
devoid of mistakes. it just reasons differently—it holds disgust for
dishonesty. for years, I acted contrary to intestines, I would be dishonest, I now
wonder why: if it’s shameful, while I sound simple, try to stop it immediately.
try not to box in insecurity. try not to exult dissention inside. each lie is a
confession against self. so impossible! so much an ideal. most endorse lying,
but not receiving lies. [however], Love is smart, smarter, smartly dressed,
smartly distant, smart enough to pass many men by. she likes certitude, speaks
with asphalt trailing, pauses, when listening to abstracts. she’s an advocate
for happiness. she finds several wicks. she tries not to convolute matters. she’s
a great lover, with a healthy appetite, she sticks to what impresses. it took
years to get right. she tries not to, but she’s argumentative, in a
conversational way. she judges. it helps to survive. she has a few prejudices.
[but] she flits with grace, she scuds with intellect, she’s professional,
seductive, alert when called.
(aeipathy is in
parts described.) an inner indescribable peg, released in interior, making
manifests in actions, attributes. needing more. hungry. insatiable for the
object/subject of its affection. almost illogical, it can’t be, employing emotional
intelligence—somewhat free of complete rationality. observing itself in
language which permits for dual understanding. needing to exhaust itself to
rest, in order to refresh, as it awakens it goes deeper—comfortable with Love,
never satisfied with expression of love. looking. searching. badgering watchtowers,
steady at building its empire. absorbed, free, negotiating some neat balance—concerned
with losing measures. so impossible! so unscientific. so unsteady in its
fullness.
