So constantly with a diverse vigour
she has enabled herself to entertain thoughts that pattern
a symbolically false desire to not exist
by the width of her own breath she has found
human existence to be the most faulty non-constant
she has ever known.
How deliciously evil.
Where is the light
to resist the temptation to become the economically vibrant
know it all [ ]
She often left things unwritten, unscribed, un-harmoniously patterned into the vault of human consciousness by doing nothing at all, such was her unknown power.
After all this is but a stage,
a glorious departure from the instance we could never know
we were a most perfect instance
fractured with determined grace
and she may be wrong
but she may be…
struggling for lift-off form
from the forlorn and so often maligned diorama that we are.
There is only a thick shadow of unreal and illogical colours that garners serpentine-shifts and quakes opposing shadows to move and manipulate the systemic hereditary concept, that she knows as life, into the most common theory.
She is empowered by this long drawn out death rattle.
She will not go quietly.
We are so very young and toddling
curving out in dances we don’t understand
dreaming in the palm of a governing hand
I blame unnatural rhythm and
I so often box throughout the night with my own disbelief,
Shuddering through the entrances taken by so many,
taking the tunnel away from infamy,
Because infantile me.
Oftentimes she just wants to be stoppped
and to be held up
and not by a gun, a law, or a theorem,
but by a real heart-warming hug.
I love you
beyond the end of time.