I
heard to feel a sudden chill afloat,
where
eyes burdened a lonely soul.
We
grew crops ever to pose staring
into
portals round with fallen souls.
It
bore into heart, a wealth of forbidden. I struck bells, ever
to
roam—a faceless valley. She died in parts, to honor
death,
enriched by life. I’m there, a moment in time,
engraving
bark. I wrote a mystery, a dreamy-eyed storm,
where
hell took form. The alleys are sullen, to outline
breath,
to sketch a nightmare. I used soul, to become soul,
lonely
at an orange light. What for heart, and starry
dreams,
slowly taken for granted. I would have loved in
brief,
torn by insanity, cleaving to a climax. We fall this
way,
enlove with such luster, to jilt a queen. The earth is
subtle,
to shift indelible, where tomorrow screams. I
sketched
us here, a jaunty bunch, scorned for oblivious. It’s
all
today, a glimmer of ghosts, where hearts illuminate.
Otherwise,
another culture—with woven standards. How to
adjust,
where justice hovers, set to destroy; but feelings
simmer,
as daymares, gentle for destruction. I’m gallant for
such,
to yield a pond, to caress midnight. She’s there,
waving
goodbye, to evaporate the sun. Wasn’t roses, or
rather
a chasm, blazing through bosoms? I sigh for naivety,
an
airbrushed fiasco, to frolic with vanity. It was cherry
eyes,
an addict’s secret, beating in our chests. The rivers
wailed,
to abrade a heart, where passion strangles souls.
