As the malopticalization
at the hindsight of my horizon
crystalifies into focality,
I know, beyond comprehendity,
inconceivabalitousness, even,
that the full forefrontal
of my skyscapity
is sharplier and more vividous
than all I saw
midst my previousness.
And. I. Can’t. Wait.
Sometimes,
and only very rarely,
I struggle with
instantisized
gratificalitousness.
This is one of those times.
defying atrophy 