Come
rain fall, too call your name, building an armoire; and more the feature,
to
stream a sun, running through projects; and all through mind, a late night
grin,
to awaken in sweat. I love you come pain, chiseled in parts, a vector of
a
man. We died through faces, to picture for reason, alone come damned. I like
for
calm, a rumbling fortress, condemned to speak; and more come notes, a
mind
come millions, as brave as doctors; and what for dead, to walk a maze,
alive
come fusions. I mix to mingle, a silent glow, aware of mystics. I perish
this
life, a diamond swan, as green as wealth. The days are purple, come
charms
affixed, enslaved asleep; but much to build, a guild of families, captured
by
joys. I love a voice, to hear it bend, a quarter of a century; and much the
fields,
a force a minute, a riddle to a psyche. Such is mystery, a woman for
showers,
and know not a name. Its dice and chips, to run a gamut, as complex
as
love; and sodden woes, the throes of game, a faucet come dreams. Its fiery
aches,
come verbal texture, a fulgent orgasm; and more the lights, enflamed
and
poor, fawning over Scriptures. I devour soul, the soul of self, as limpid as
see-through
hearts. It’s arts for pensive, to see your voice, an image come
psyches;
and kismet tears, to wreck a village, formed in metaphysics.
