Incense
burns, where to yearn your soul, somewhere after life.
I
drill a canon, to feel a cannon, three miles your eyes. I fall
this
feature, to see for solace, a grave thriving. I love you like
affections,
a feeling dejected, to awake through touch. We
challenge
fatedly, a subtle seduction, a dungeon of rain. I go
for
no-place, to chase for pudding, thrusting for dear life. We
polish
words, a caress of peach fuzz, to pluck a hair. I feel
you
like liquor, to die where they live, afraid of intimacy. Its
life
a choir, to sing a soul-cave, to hear it chant through rivers.
You
whisper my name, such sweet a melody, as charming as
first
hellos. We stick like syrup, abandoned with joy, to reap a
harvest
of shame. I die your gestures, to temple your smiles,
enlove
with a phone call. Its glory a heart-tone, a chalice for
poison,
to love for given. I pitch a coin, to ripple through
ponds,
to see an inscription. You come through friction, a
crypt
of moments, a grave for love. We picture so perfect, to
shun
for logic, sipping for cosmos. I drift through stars, to
comfort
insecurity, a risk for agitations. So more a Frisbee, to
float
through psyches, alive for syllables—a name.
