I
wrestle to wrestle life, netted to stars, for presentation. It comes through
fires,
to nestle flame, to cull for secrets. I know for mind, a thought for vixens,
to
court a snake-fly. It’s torn a coffin, to dig a fathom, to rise from graves. Oh
for
messy, to visit a judge, a pair of children. We laugh at irony, a bit satiric,
to
strip a puzzle. Oh your story, to scribe for glass, bleeding through shards;
for
a
name grew, to plant an orb, to orbit wisdom. I felt a palm, to stroke an ego,
a
bit too shy; and mother spoke: “To capture dreams, we must perish.” I fall
from
bed, forced to rise, for counting blunders; plus, forgive, a fading self,
for
such affliction. What was it, for a
keen eye, to know for hell? Its deep a life,
a
weekly psych, to grow like thunder. I feel an arm, drifting through winds, as
kind
as grandma. I wish to see it, a nudge for growth, as distant as felines; for
love
is nay, as active as foreplay, to disappear. It’s now for chase, to roam a
city,
asearch for tight eyes. I love it not, to love it more, a door upon skies; and
left
asunder, to wander psyches, as found as lost. You're more astute, to stir a
chuckle,
where all is scrutiny. I saw it well, a giant soul, flooding souls; for
this
for love, a distant love, to play it naïve. It’s a wrestle, plus a cave, an
altar
near
flame; and God heard, to fix a night, to fraught a mind. It was you, ever this
heart,
beating through twilight; for earth is small, for more to leap—our strife.
