Feeling genuine pity--
Curating angels, garments in tangles.
Lapdogs don't want to be lapdogs, they just are.
In the face of approval:
What's 'steem'ing 'hot' came excretion. The sacral orafice remains unwashed and heavily wiped--bleeding-- for what calls for attention: obvious intentions announced in a mention.
The unknown happiness of children singing Christmas carols for pesos--
Two boys, one beating a small drum in steady groove of 'dum-du-du, dum-du-du' as he walks around singing to it just as funky, as to say, I'm here I'm everywhere I'm beat--without a pride of entertainment (a good thing, mind you), because art differs and truth is nourishment. The other boy follows behind collecting pesos from anyone shuffling coins around--
You, there! I want to say, to that of the modern, inebriated in techno-sexuality--
Raise toast to the coming-came age-- (How's your innocence in matters? Is sincerity purported as self importance, or is the face bubbling at the brim like adhesive to the mask?) "Be the C.E.O. of Y.O.U. (Your Own Universe)" plaqued on the mantel. The ladder's a holy one, son, and it exists in you--the body no longer a temple, but a tower.
--Fixation is a point behind the eyes that gives the whole demeanor an appearance. Blood pumping at sight of 'jump' words, and always contained in the baring of the three whites of the eye-- allieviating the smug mug of genuine disinterest takes boundaries, and what's questioned is directed within and not at-- 'juiced', give praise.
Information and what's gained in--trivial blanks and small talk on a large scale.
A girl in her early twenties was asking for the air conditioning to be turned on. "Sorry", the owner walking over to the fan, "there is none", he turned it on and aimed it at her. "You know, you can be acclimated to the heat just as you are with air conditioning--you should of seen my friends when they'd ride with me growing up, I never used the AC, I liked the windows down, fresh air--except one car I drove, an old BMW, the passenger window wouldn't roll down, it was broken and locked like that"--her brow was knotted, she stared into her phone flicking through feed and avoiding his conversation. She made a mental note to write a bad review of this tea house, forming the review in her head, "he only uses left over tea from the days before to make iced tea by putting it in a refrigerator, adds no ice, tastes bland, not enough sweetener, can't provide AC and instead arrogantly asserts 'being acclimated to the heat'. He has no customer service ethics at all, will never come back", legs shaking uncontrollably. The owner was saying, "besides, when you go from one AC bubble to the next, you're devoid of negative ions--those are good for you, you know. The Japanese know all about it, it's down to a science"--he hardly hesitated, "when you don't have negative ions it makes you agitated, and you get headaches and--"
"stop talking to me" she blew out, and typing out a text to a friend, "he won't STFU"--the owner shook his head in amusement, "well, be well" and went into the kitchen.
What's the seeking power to reward and the reward to power?
