"surface swimming, sadly", she said.. as she tended to the wounds, psychological, his head... he, not like any ordinary man something he struggled with, all "the within", take a stand acutely aware, this game, in illuminate betray one another "falling victim", the material state how we betray the nectar, for "the numb" distillation of depth for the deifying of dumb "the average, the obvious", we succumb as if no other option to be allowed, bathe the sun soak it into our core, our being rapturously righted, our sight inner "seeing" so we settle and surrender in order, "fit in" the inner "patrick bateman", for some of us our paradoxical sin that while we know there is so much more we surface swim, sadly necessity, "open doors"... that we know, we really just wish, could walk past so little here of sustenance the succulence of sensual most can't feel, unaware, devoured, en masse quantities that don't demand of the intricate and so he accepts, and rejects molecular dissonance all man made, these constructs of casual as the "acceptable" state, the latest frothing, "fashionable".. but life, and love, in its "real", not cliche as something within him, repulsed walks away... then contradicts his true self for the crowd and returns to them once more, while knowing inside, they cannot see him, his "proud".. attempts to lead them somewhere, more mysterious more magical, meaningful as if he, only hearing this... yes, it is possible, to transform, "only knew", as in, "if they", could listen see the signs, touch the truth yet he knows, most can't so he self betrays, he, then swallowed by his sense, obligation the wants and wanderings, hearts wallowed in their wants, their needs who they demand, he then be "invisible-ized", again he somehow, convinced, "true self" must recede... to the background, the shadows and be the light they need him to be as his darkness, it seeps into "her" the one, the unexpected, found he in a space and time, quite strange, quite magic he both embraces, rejects her understanding, his "tragic".. all the things that another "not supposed to love" in him, "she just did", and does no end, his mere presence upon her enough the embodiment realized and actualized, in her not a fabrication for the glean, guilt gestation just to let him be, all that he is how it excites, then does scare him as to run, said so said he, "gifts of man, numbed"... yet consistent is she, to his insistent inconsistent, fires, flees no rejection of him, no matter, scrawled in silence his "please be sick of me", plea's simply "always there", he, aware he captured her heart doesn't know what to do with her "bare" and so he runs, and so she walks in honor, his inherent immeasurable illuminant "can't forgets".... ....all the things, in soul silence, she knows that she hopes, one day calls him back to her, shows... not all, so surface swim, sadly not she, to the deep, in divine she awakened one day, to realize, hues of heaven, haunt he as do they her and so, all this concern, care born in worth, bound, this earth... of having lived, loved, lost enough, know the difference between something, someone "just more of the same" and some "one", something, unfathomable his electric, delicate, then demanding, "sweet incredible", engulfing illuminance (there is nothing wrong, "hand in glove", if somehow he could free himself, the "suspect" soul, the "expected of him" role let the heart rise above the "should" of surface swimming, sadly and just....be...truly loved) bowen hart roselli 2 may 2020 ringwald love
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