grieving the infinity of emotions stretching behind a construct; a language
passion and the tragedy of sex, imagine a sharp dialogue running the cliff, cessation of language. infinite feelings are made approachable, each recurrent moment, shadowed feelings are unfolding quietly, are interrupted, then confronted with an empty interpretation; many ruffled words on the surface. words disseminate outside of feelings, to create a composition of space within borders, expressions are determined firmly to limits set. incomplete words define feelings, words stand fatigued in the unveil, uneven unable to contain, to grasp these hungry feelings in. how incomprehensible soul is to the body?
writing, I suppose; is a tenacious practice of individuality, deceptive in it's promises for eternity.
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