chrome bluff
It all began with black, a sour taste, and a name.
It was a cold world to enter in-
to be ushered into,
naked.
And towards me, this noise was directed.
I was a star then.
I was the star of affection.
Ye, the star of negligent conception.
~ Careless whispers.
How mindful is the body's will to act— this ritual of the spirit, in what seems so selfish. Surfacial intuitions, that yearn for simplicity.
What is the appearance of love? A motivated act, some strange dancing of flesh to flesh.
I find it bizarre,
Perhaps I'm just as lost as...
Perhaps, I'm just lost.
I can hear her sometimes, in the slightest sounds that occur within the abstractions...that lingered off unto the threshold of my limitation and the infinity of my imagination. You know the sounds, the sublime and beautiful, emanations that question sanity. Always just out of reach.
Those absurdities...
They would soon assure me, are imagined.
I was a star then.
Ye, the star of so-called “good intentions”.
So guess what place seemed destined for me.
You know what paves my way.
“Good intentions.”
~ Careless whispers, intended to corrupt the ordained silence.
Once again.
How embodied is this heart of hearts— this sacrifice of the flesh, in what seems so selfless. Esoteric reasoning, that bequeaths complexity.
What is this love beyond appearances? There are no words.
I find it beautiful.
Perhaps I'm just as lost as you are.
I can hear him sometimes….
In the surreal, with ears I'm not sure are...temporal.
Emanations that make me question conception.
Evidence that guarantees to me a truth I have no knowledge of.
What is this voice beyond voices that I can receive?
With a sense I can't account for?
Before consciousness, do you remember what you were?
Fetal was the state,
Fatal, the possibilities.
Failure to take, givens’
Opportunities– prison.
coarse plume
errant totem
agile crystal
thorny spindle