just a little bit
for a daredevil. screaming for noises, alarmed by loudness, needing unreality,
nonetheless. so novel, so amorous, so impatient; as carefree, incurring
damages, carrying an existential scent. years make an austere queen, subject to
slips, in a world made dishonest. a guarantee is a promise, in its passion,
despite, gremlins lurking in shadows. otherwise, abysmal, sweet despair, aggravated
by devil-may-care. at times, loving her wasn’t easy—she would say something
similar. if to impart my story, if to find an audience, some present antiquity.
so bizarre how it rationalizes, brains protecting themselves, alienation
seeming unavoidable. so discreet with pain, “All is well,” seated afore a
closet, face wrapped in knees. uneasiness is a planet, module C, sheer morosity
promised flowers. an internal heist, a kidnapping, like winning is inverted or
haunted.
woven
by daisies, thinking on immortality, feeling quite mortal; rebuking constantly,
particular head magic, presuming this is friendship. walking an engrossing
leaf, poem, pain—in its fruition. attuned at moments, insync, so synchronized:
a flash in cameras, a good second, if to feel complete; as passing into
oblivion, a remembered itch, eating sociality.
by
a taste, it smells like water, it hankers like poverty. toiling over frost,
trying to get closer, pure agony in our eyes.
