I
die a rhythm, tripping through pits, to warn the self. They want for more,
enriched
in jewels, filled with claims. I love
an angel, spent in reality,
plagued
for haunted. We journey through
grays, a shade of imperfection,
striving
for clarity; where mother screams, the roar of demons, to channel
a
foe. I feel for soul, and kneel in prayer, ever a heartbeat. The waves
churn,
for petal’s rain, a picture in a psyche.
We follow brooks, to shadow
justice,
grieved and sinning. I love you more,
to see for truths, to know
for
literature. A girl cries, with less
the tears, to shatter a shield; where a
father
crumbles, to know for pain, to witness a step-father. It’s deeper
woes,
for towing hells, a bottle out to sea; in which a psyche, knows for
deaths,
to summons gods. I try for laughs, to
usher tears, streaming through
Lana. The nights are prayers, and rivet chants,
to ripple the lands. I
pause
the fright, to see for visions, cringing the earth. It’s all a dream, to
plague
Descartes, to channel the great poets; for life is rain, a daughter’s pen,
to
regret the madness; but truth was rare, in need of zeal, where a father
perished. I love you more, despite the hells, for
Christ is living. The tides
are
hell, to dip and move, swerving through traffic. We live it boldly, to
run
from sins, afraid of contact; but God is good, the friction of hearts, to
remove
the grains. We know for life, and
hellish charms, to fall a river; but
love
is green, the rarest gem, to suture wounds.
