I’m
tipsy, Love; as to ponder us, Love; flaming for falling into a barrow, Love. I
know pain; introduced so early; as to chisel perfection; this elusive grandeur,
taken by force, this kiss as a whistle; to die your mother, as to live your
mother, while catering sorrows; this beige lightning, as in-between, to court
such darkness. I used to perish, this thing of reasons, to perish as thunder;
this casual affair, as taken lightly, where harsh realities cornered sins. I
know a prayer, as shared in minds, to fight with deaths this wholeness: our
mystic ways; our Buddhist’s claves; as paving a fortress. I felt a heart, as
revving branches, to seep into roots; this soil of fools, to have such dreams,
as to gaze upon stars; this scar of swans, while reaching for cygnets, this
machine acting in accordance. It could be life, to live alone, while peering at
existence; or it could be life, to live in crowds peering at loneness; but this
is life, to do for both, accused of insanity. I heard a mother, at tears to
admit, this infant attraction; where hell unleashed, as to ruin our souls,
while daughters play pretend. I must advance, as borne to chaos, this mother at
roots my sins; to die a psych, as for saying little, while dearly methodical. It
should be death, this refusing aura, as pelted through rivalries; to claim his
part, as stout a soldier, falling through flame this woman. I love us singing,
where songs are unheard, this voice chasing through meadows; to ask of Eve,
this indomitable force, those ties that led to nakedness. It must be us,
leading into dungeons, where fathers held there issue’s hand; this long
goodbye, as accused of hell, while mothers insist on innocence; but more to
realities, shifting as for building, leading into glory: this erratic grin, as
seasoned through tortures, while fathers swim through sulfur: this magnet
heart, as sparked to sins, at reach this therapy; to seek a portrait, as
perfected in images, where we live this caption: this wonderful dream, while
revved through raja, this future announced to students: our partial ties, as
fragile ways, while adoring our mutual love. It takes for time, where hell
ensued, while mothers played pretend; to ignore aches, while courting
pleasures, to see a hint as something keen; this cold adventure, an addict as a
mentor, guiding through error those opinions. It takes for studies, as bent
towards truths else, hell is a kidney. I love our song, as reaching in futures,
to renounce a fleet of dogmas; where love is life, as life is reality, where
hearts thump to music.
