more than I thought you could be. we fare better at opposition. To imagine an open discussion. It would never happen. I riddle myself and giggle a green death. Such energy skies, to fall in at will. If never to believe, then the walk would feel like psychoses. Nevertheless, let us not possess our wishes, let life remain gray, adding color, opalescent gems. I think of you, not out of lust, wondering what ails so frantically. Such joys in the midst of it all: one cannot be so skilled as not to smile, time and again. And I desire little, wondering why it is not given. I hit a nerve. I wonder if war is sought after. To know for privacy—to sense a monopoly, to give where others are enthused, such fanciness, each drumbeat has a different meaning. It was perceived as pure; it was mis-qualified. Such wise creatures, disputing intentionality, most gestures are bad or good deception. I was nudging self: What is better, pure loyalty or pure excitement? In wanting to call for goodness, I wonder about niceties. (Maybe it is because we will it to be. Maybe we need it. Maybe in limbo until it came about.) Such would be ecstatic (so, it is called love.) I was at a place in mind, thirsty for panacea, ignoring the edification. It might not be its intention; fate has a strange way of using humans. I might be mistaken: it seems effort is invested. Over there, in a hovel, one sits, wrestling against tides. At moments, it feels like a hospice; at moments, it feels like angelica. The sheer disbelief; so intimate to us, like something is wrong with us.
