More often such radiant eyes that liquid beauty. There’s liquor and water this feast of souls,
gathered his mind, at woes to kiss her: such terrible justice this force
screaming, as a necklace churns for tugging. We wax with eloquence that
soothing nerve that scrambled language seated in innuendoes; to capture that
voice as torn this mystic—our cries, vocal intuitions—our tears but droplets of
Christ’s soul; while holding this vibrant cello that thing of love this quake
trembling in sensations; while hearts carry bells this knell of tortures that
thing chasing our inner moments. We’ve scribbled upon clouds our infant pash
this fever raging into volcanoes—that disappointed grimace that awakened anger,
while one ignored the softest whispers.
Such radiant and naïve eyes yearning for comfort—that thing of faith
that need for intervention, where something lurks in silent shadows; that inner
deceit that carved belief, where heaven grew limbs to defend salvation: our
horrible colors at love with fire this frantic warmth this vivid torture; while
linger he does that chamber of fools fraught with beating cries; whereto, this
love, as favored this wheel of romance as sky-bound that terrible union, as
gratifying as a mother’s nipple. We watch melting walls form furtive symbols
where angst churned a vacant thought, while loins burned in sickening flames;
that troubling lust that flickering dart as darkened as that last volt of
temptation; to scold it dearly that want of terror—if only those castling
eyes—this board of chess that threshed embrace as two courting this miracle
dungeon; while rainbows shadow gardens that deep and sequential heartbeat this
effusion of what could never exist; that faraway longing that inner chalk,
while our brush fails to erase love: that torn event lunged into space, where
favors become this motive for trying-souls. It must for closure this thing of
treasures, while blinking for posture those eyes of wisdom, where experience
eradicated naivety.
