i can’t inhale—not deep enough—to erase
the interior; the child was an experiment, a project, fed pains, problems, and
pride. like an undead soul, a reborn spirit, so alive in his sadness. too much
happiness seems askew. too little sadness, and I chase her. we might say something
isn’t right. the peace for one, is the hell for another, seated as we were.
instincts and emotions, causeless
and endless, the situation isn’t simple; seemingly tactile, so intestinal, each
feeling destined to chip at me—to take pieces of me—to destroy innocence.
the world keeps spinning. the days
remain enigmatic. the beauty is exquisite.
sweet immortal Chastity, the collar
has betrayed thee, what move is there with only one option? so cursed, such
guilt, for the sin of another person.
each circuit i felt. each reality i’ve
endured. each objection, as in space, time, and beauty, i’ve explained in self,
to self, by self, and the cradle keeps moving.
the path has memories. they open
for many. the soul might fly again.
some euphoria—gunning at itself,
being understood comes with a price, and over yonder, no one is clear, each person
wrestles a problem—no one is free. a major assertion, with a paradigm
lingering, while normality is a reflection of the mirrors—the consensus table—and
no one is contending the first two premises; rather, not many are equipped to
contend—most count on that.
I saw in magazines, mothers trying
it for husbands, he desires something aesthetic; the drug life, the liquor
life, the limelight—over limes with gin, at dangers to survive, he might be a
different person after exposure; she loves him, he’s all, in all, knowing he
can’t outwit her—knowing he has a vague reflection—permitting him to feel
secure in that.
aside a freesia, down the way from
a daisy, many playing with dandelions.
tick tock, and dot to dot, the
river has become lurid, too many colors, too many metaphors; the town is
unready, the pews are filled with achievers, nevertheless, no one is ready.
the dauting task, for the dauntless
soul: she asked for a first-person essay, i gave something academic. ghouls and
goblins, feelings and emotions, while intelligence varies; awakened and
something like destiny, would a soul be rejected? gates and walls, New
Kingdoms, and what they consist of; Tai Chi, Taekwondo and something too human
to ignore. so much a foxy creature, too refined for it to be true, too shapely
to be ignored, although, men desire certain features.
nourish the fable. listen to the
insanity, those old lines were untrained. one watching, might suggest, the years
have been good to his atmosphere.
the sun fell asleep—65 days of
darkness, it affects the insides. many will not make it.
