Darkened Wallpaper

I have no love like into silent sound—
waves of chaos, pride in excellence—
the death of the suffering, those miles
between hells, by courage to arise freely:
unblameable, made condemnable, or
off into penchants, wistful souls, at
blank verse, so moved to have sinned.
made reproveable, born to condition,
the dispensation of ghosts, or energies,
much in tone with eeriness, uncanny
psychology, streams into valleys, most
are depleted; souls filled with caves,
darker dreams, as it pushes aesthetic, an
existential allegory, our wrestle with
buckles, shields, colors, dreams, ink and
force. the holy woods, the godhead of
the mountain, explosive handwriting,
remarkable calligraphy.