Shall
it perish
to a life of science
scraped and bruised?
How
to
hold her, solely for lust, or mathematics; but what of
physics,
and electric wires, driving to ecstasy? We lose to
win,
to define it, an epoch feat.
I’m
lost
for love, to box it in chi, sitting and feeding squirrels.
It’s
much adrenaline, to live it yoga, to channel the Hindus.
Is
it more so—sophisticated, as opposed to feelings. Can
we
speak it with wit?
We
mold
like bolts, a feeling vague, to smelt and claim. Its ape-
like,
plus for delicate, even knitted for debate. I feel her, a
strong
ascent, aching marrow. We scrape for bone, through
words
of clay, munching popcorn. I wince for dreams, to
witness
volts, striking internal. We laugh, bound to years, a
sculpture
for kids.
Oh
for
love, sick for psychotic, waist high a matrix. We fall for
love,
partly born, to scorn a thought. I love her smiling, with
bulbous
eyes, a gesture tender. We mesh like fruits, even
classic
drums, beating for gnawing infinity.
Ever
for love,
we
live for growth, to perish each moment. I see her budding,
to
flood a soul, even an ocean. I’m near a shore, gnawing on
locusts,
as ascetic as Jews. We’re flying freely, bound to nature,
to
suffer as we surf. It’s ever an urge, pulling for yanking,
drilling
a psyche. So more to love, a mural for hearts, ever a
mystic
gem. She tugs for metal, enlove with cushion, ever a
kind
word. We strut in silence, lowly acclaimed, kissing for
good
times. Its faith for mountains, hiking to climb, to witness
a
friend; and more for light, to soar as twins, cuddled in love.
