Late imagination

      
     A swan feather scarf on his angel-winged shoulders as a heavy carrying load alone; braids her brown-midnight hair, dripping twilight nectar from her long fingertips! I'm listening to your friend's voice even better! The panting gears in my head recall my phone conversations on the canvas of my memories; as if you were reading derogatory sermons out loud so otherworldly! An unexpected excitement flows through the ponderings of Executioner Time! It would have been better for us to cling more boldly to our beating hearts while the superstitious moment could last!
      
     We have all given up our tangible, existing, sacred reality! When can the heart listen to feelings lost in confrontations?! Our human inclinations are incapable of transcending boundaries into damnation! Srub is still lounging in bed in exchange for a dream career that can be exploited many times, and then she is indignantly surprised that the baby project may have arrived prematurely! In the depths of the Spirit's cellar, a small child cries softly: one should contemplate the Real with the pearl maturity of eyes!
      
     Dignity is already fragile, with which it always reveals its consciously constructed incognito! Your petal being is deliberately exalted in your lying eyes; you yourself feel unable to put everything on a new foundation without inner redemption! Wash your hair in extended moon turns in balmy moonlight! On it hangs its already distressed, otherworldly loneliness, like the bars of a prisoner that cannot be unlocked with lattice padlocks! - An Alpine scramble for murderous maximalism is becoming more and more unbearable: in the midst of timeless expectations, when the imagined, superstitious body would be embraced by the aching lack of a shaky little child as a suffering instruction sticks to my body!
      
     Can we still feel in the other's soul that we need each other?!