Good
is set to flare,
with
a grave to follow,
reading
canons.
I’m
out of candles,
plus
incense,
fully
aflame,
and
fully
scented.
She
knew love,
abandoned
and
found. It was ever
life,
florescent in motion, feeling a
blackdamp.
We grieve a
war,
chiseling tablets,
in
and out of dungeons.
Unlock,
peg for peg, careworn and
luminous.
I smiled to
strike
a web, to
pause a mood, growing
in stature.
Something’s
askew, a secret cycle,
mourning
rather
happily.
It’s akin to therapy,
where
pain evolves, probing
a
light. Such is joy, to love and be hated, ever to move a
psyche.
I
speak, and speak not, alert to motion.
When
afflicted,
pause, feel and be felt, for I love
you is life, to
quote
you in death, wrestling with complications.
It
was
ever
a mind,
quasi-torn,
peering
into a future.
We
give,
rubbing
bones,
grappling
with trauma.
I’m
lately sad, feeling motives, where darkness is an
iron
bolt.
Contribute
not to madness,
where
culmination is a
spear.
Rather cleanse and be cleansed, an open brochure,
molding
a bittersweet.
