The breeze puncturing anonymous skin
I organize thoughts like a hobby
Where do routine iterations end up?
There is contrivance in her gifts
I get surprised by dosage variables
This merger finally breaks open the cage
The breeze puncturing anonymous skin
I organize thoughts like a hobby
Where do routine iterations end up?
There is contrivance in her gifts
I get surprised by dosage variables
This merger finally breaks open the cage
The patient consolidation of irregularities
I decide on which maneuver,
to yearn for, while responding to her echoing volatility
Why not explode?
There is merit in deleting incremental goal orientation
I recoil springs, & train to be eager
She mystifies the logical conclusions
This mentality of existing paused between floors
I relent justifiable arguing for courtesy
Why not untrain habitual personified oppression?
Her primal twisting beneath moonlit delta waves
The fractional cyborg aspects,
within her mobilized joy
I remain lusting for indivisibility
How do prophecies take us elsewhere?
There is fictionalized blockage,
& this race for antidotes,
is certifying permanence
Laboratory
She hones deterioration,
for the sake of new births
The wavy geometrics in her naked movement,
which exist only through faith
I reminisce about lingering havoc,
& considerations of beauty
Where is misplaced desire?
This bystander is taking more appropriate notes
Her postural angles,
keep stoking the drama
I never forget to implicitly build additional complexity
The feathered regret of a misspoken identity
How do we bridge godless answers?
I plagiarize shelter
There will be an echo,
that loiters within campaigns for normalization
Her tomorrow dusted off the joystick
This prevailing tension underneath masked innocence
I ricochet along crinkly fliers in our hallway
The batch is doused with evolutionary ingredients
How might an obvious fracture in logic promote the new?
She attacks with graceful technicality
These demarcating symbols of validation
How can we market integrity?
I’m still unbinded from the alpha waves,
& her ghostly dotted lines are evaporating quickly
There is need for rupture
The working metaphorical toolbox derived from plagues
I undo symmetry
There is a fortress in her greeting
Why not?
I’m getting squished against the royal mirror,
but I zoom out & taste pixelated clues from infinity
Jittery riddles coming at me
Why do experiences of taste fade away?
The game ends if tension relaxes,
in futile hopes of actualization
We crave impossibility
I will not execute a real bridge to her