lurid 2.0

Even the lurid nature of love expressed in a dance with the abstract... a song, a picture, a thread and line that weave a coat, the tooled work of sundered logs formed into an emblem of longing.... In the end one is left tired, unable to be inspired as once was. Yet rest is just around the corner if you are patient, if your meaning is more than to obtain something through a fancy display...

The shifting nature of what inspires might lead one into more of an illusion than if we abandoned the credulous nature of hasty convictions in the abstract. Find the commonality in what evokes thee, and the evocation you shall speak once imbued will show it self to be not but one form but dependent on the essence of what was witnessed, what transpired. There you shall see that an indiviudal will collect a common theme in their expression, and thus we conclude with our own incredulous act that the shifting nature of what inspires is more so the latent nature of our desires to sift and find in what transpires a common theme......

warm up

Like most things, expression cannot flow outside of the bounds which contain it as one emits.

Like the dust, rememberd frail and fragile, the state shall shift and meanings diffuse into each other, creating the conglomerate essence of "is".

Yet let not even that entrap you, for as you speak it is easy to see the relevant issue is hardly what is at hand but rather a motive beyond what you can yet easily express, least you were to not tarry so often in domains that seem unnaturally stressful.

Entrapped then you are in convictions. Each and every able feature loaned inside the affect seeks then to rise the motives riled up... That motive shown clearly through my dismissal of your words and their apparent context. Yet what is left?

What is left.

Time and time again i have been shown that when the barriers break down, no matter the strength or claims of the individual, there is the desire for something of a love. When that love does not exist, when it is not accessed, then one is in a state of semi despair. But worry not, shows, drinks and jolly events are still had in plenty, regardless of the twinge and twitch you feel at night that implicates the underlying essence that laces it self through each expression.

There is no happy ending here, neither a scorn in the assumed pessimism some might find... Rather, there is only the beat and note, the heart and breath, the form and flow of life still coursing through you, able to discern, able to learn.... Ready willing and able to commit to the fables.

For i then

For i then spy --
a sense of reason --
that evokes one's lie.---
Enabled by escape
it weaves a pattern...
...of abstractions  ....
into dreams that you shall now lace....

But as iv'e seen
you leave the motives riled up
up up...
gleamed inside of quotas
that enable
satisfaction
you establish an implicit scene.

and still i know
that the reason
is life to flow....
Upon the emnity is hidden facts
that the pressure is often .......................................
>>>>>>>>>>>>>

free style 45 seconds

coal and affect

And lay pon my essence for we are but once to catch this....
and in that light we shall find not a form to hold....
but all it will then drift and be forlorn..

Escaped yes, forgotten too the laden course of affect..
and still my heart beats in part simply too...
remind my mind as the essence goes...

So what was a chance to hold that feature and enable...
the even flow that must be known for us to go....

to go and never miss our soul...