I showed courage, so young as vandals,
seeping into addictions; this rigid definition, as illegal courts restrictions,
our years to living through our rearview—this heinous canine, our brains upon
edges, this cliff so gorgeous its attractions—while velvet our arts, or jasper
our thoughts, sipping for tipping into images.
I saw ecstasy, this yacht bleeding, this friction to bodies as dying our
liquids: if but to avenge, as livid our curse, while sung those glories upon
caves—that inner two-piece, such aesthetic thighs, such esthetic buttocks—that
rich waist, those shimmering arms, those legs for racing as leaping
hurdles—where patience simmers, at wakes
our brains, this composing by personal eulogies: that blonde vixen, those
adorned toes, our noses so steep our mountain-sky…this space, as troubling
converse, a line dictating behavior—or pills for feelings, while fleeing
mirrors, as disgusted that once-upon-a-feeling.
I heard sweetness, unaware of origin, to awaken to humanness [as sails
our hearts, this manikin perfection, this gala soul—those filthy brilliant
images, that Cinderella dress, this monster courting beauty—as gorgeous a
beast, such levity as holiness, our trips flying above an inner Vatican: this
vatic essence, that tragic moon, as holding every increment of history: our
casual nonchalance, as permanent dispositions, laughing for writhing through
wombs: so young a villain, this steep richness, to fathom ahead of witnessing
actions: to know for motives, to address roots, to session thirty minutes of
passion: this steep affliction, as cut for screaming, or screaming for ruined,
while at affects this changing of latitudes: to rinse frantically, our scales
to drains, our flesh bathed in affections—as living forever, as ever this
second, to curse for wailing pleading interests—those beige movies, this black
at white, that glorious Caucasian actress—our lotic Monroe(s), our terrifying
women warriors, this need to unleash an Amazon—as craved a feeling, to arrive a
thought, while bleeding treachery to hurdle passed disgraces: this thetic
heart-pressure, that outer dissertation, this woman his brains as feeling
insecure: if but to live, as but to avenge—that morning headache…where passion
becomes cuffs, while cuffs are cherished—those jaguar eyes: insomuch, a dream,
as more this scar, so confessed as lusting for nuns—this holy catastrophe, as
lifelong abandonment, so cold to warmth abashed for seduction—as desires
flurry, our graves laughing, to have frittered away what he intended for intimate access: this terrible soul, or this
courageous man, while steeped in secrets sliding through snow-forests]. I had a crush, as racing forward, to become
by sky-terrors: this reign in souls, this purgatorial, while rich our Father’s
literature: those violet eyes; those aqua eyes; those sable-mane eyes: or tears
to rivers, as tragic seas, to cut with forces while astray her island—our
waters to fall, those christened by sacrifice, our warm hells knitting but one
favor—as cordial sullenness, or sullen melancholia, by malaise to have outlived
prophets—this flute inverted, this outward cello, our guitars breeding our Blues—where masters mourn, as our
apprentices relish, so far as intestines reach for Zen: this cryptic ache,
those cryptic sighs, this cryptic distance—as tugging its cords, while proud to
confess—that one saw utter dysfunction and became a psychiatrist—this cinema
life, those bleeding knees, this twist through life afforded three
confessions—or more to tyrannies, as accustomed to languishing, this leaping
between bipolar one and bipolar two—as never confessed, but felt through guts,
while hypomanics maintain a modicum of guidance—whereas, our seas, as
flickering manics, to aid his life a fist full of risperidone—those cold
trimmers, that warm tremor, this inner chemistry flayed in tapestries—as
dipping his soul, flushed in churches, scrambling to seize this segment of what
our souls give: those golden antiques, this mental comfort, that obliteration
of doubtful proclivities—at love with life, at sights with love, to freedom for
flying accustomed three drums—our souls to reincarnations!
