I
love for wills—to discount life, to
perish in burning arms; the gray of this pain, to flicker like rainbows, to
hold us in agony; and see for joys, the churn of prayers, to move his heart—this asexual being; to
flourish and perish, if only a cycle, to exhilarate the actress. Oh for
features, a bit psychotic, to manage through the socials; where one could see,
to tap the dungeon, to love like wolves. Oh the ravish, to channel through
deaths, the meth of love—to filter the monster, to give it breath, enough to
culture it; for this is love, to harness pulses, for the sake of love; to die
boldly, if only to live, to remember the famines; where pain was crucial, a
critical entity, surging through membranes. I must confess, the pull of beauty,
a woman my equal; and even for higher, to blank the skies, to see the
exospheres; in which to live, to dance through traffic, to feel for powers. I
saw for angels, to court for doves, to love a swan. What for persons, to live
within, to see for mirrors: the hope of rays, the days of grief, the moments of
joys? I vanished the instant—her heart took beats, to live in this soul;
whereat is madness, the years of anguish, to play for perfect; in which to
cherish, the multiple deaths, to raid the gates; to see for glory, this
plaguing ache, to take for roots. I vigil the night, to portrait the crime, for
a heart was snatched; and oh the music, to grieve the clouds, to pour forth
rain. It couldn’t be—and ever this mystery, this world in-between; to see for
passion, the turning of spirit, to flood the entrance—this gap in time, to
ballet time, a step into the future; where women rule, to share for power, to
station the universe. Oh for tears, to water gardens, the reach of a sudden
jolt.
