Oh
this beating heart, to scare for ghosts, sealed in visions. I
love
like diamonds, a touch of dynamite, and dearly deaf. A
future’s
screaming, and all is beige, to grab for ribbons. I
carved
a flame, to pivot flame, a place for fire; and what to
give,
as more than soul, to rouse a feeling. I die a tear, to raise
for
joy, staring at pouty eyes. If must to give, to live a sore, I
bond
a soul; for love for blind, to enter womb, a deep forest.
Oh
to feel, to rhythm die, a sparkle turn love. Indeed—my life,
a
chief of folly, a rivulet of deaths; but cleanse with tears, for
cheers
aside—a well of rages; and more to heart, a chakra vexed—
a
test come mid-soul. I smelt a dream, to forecast trauma, a
vest
of tragic tales; and no for liquor, to rekindle a day, three
months
past; but oh for liquor, a seam for minds, to flit through
fevers.
Oh to drift, a tempo flare, for hearts to flicker; for I
love
like diamonds, a rill of wicks, a candle un-melted; for
wealth
a fire, to love come rifts, to put faith a nib; else for tares,
to
die for youth, a feeling wispy; and winnow minds, a sewn
debris, to hurl a
thought.
