Its
everlasting—to struggle through guilt—to know tomorrow. I sip and dip and thank
for problems—my eyes teary, and not to fall, a brick wall boulder. I see her
dreams, to give for screams, to fulfill a promise. I couldn’t die, to cry her
name, to know for a deep pain. I’m barely this person, cringing from trauma,
and peeking through ghosts. We’re haunted, by sacred forces, cursing the
liquor. Oh it’s been weeks, craving for dying, to try for perfect. I lost a
love, the flesh of my bone, spinning this peril; plus a scar, and dearly
forbidden, the breath of her woes. The draft was life, a bit anti, to think for
social. We panic for love, to feel for better, to give for power. If only to
feel it, an addict’s grief, a bit for unfit; and there she stands, to stroke a
cheek, to grant for peace; where pain is stars, a beauty grim, to morph through
arts. I loved to see her, as stable as love, a psychic turn; but more for you,
a walk my path, to slant a conversation; and god is dying, to peer through
eyes, a bit confused. I stare the darkness, to feel for passion, to tell a deep
secret: the world is arcane, a set of streams, to touch the Ghost; and power is
you, a captured vessel, to break a mind; and then for essence, to dip through
graphics, to feel your brain. I give it and give it—the few to try it; and this
is life, as grand as unstable, to gain attention; and Lord told it, through You
and for You—and no one saw it. The stars are bleeding, to drip my soul, as
passion as death; and this is grains, parted at roots, to cleave the branches.
It’s more this pain—and trying to hide—a fraction of self. Break it my parts,
spinning through pash, to know for essence; where god is rain—a goddess heart,
fractured and swimming.
