Open gates, and flow eternally, while
stationed that resentful high: this kitsch madness, this daughter seething,
this addict repenting: this tug to
brains, this internal gumbo, our rice with gravies—as lived a sinner,
comporting for glory, while agony those eyes that cleave: if but this wife, as
seen in psychiatry—to Sophia intestinal cries: our blanket handkerchiefs, this
gown screaming, this elegant addictive monsoon: as craved an infant, this
breastfeeding alley, to witness a mother catering to our child: this pathway,
this inner vestibule, this mystic volcano.
It dies with treason; it withers with harmony; this queen by a thousand
hats: if but to rise, paranoid and reaching miseries, as melancholic as an
abandoned future: this daughter to anomalies; this mother to false imageries;
this psychologist at struggles for pure perfections: this Lancôme Paris, our
shared interests, to place infinity in sullen palms: where allure is valiant, as vicious caprice, this beast by burdens
reading, Smith: our wellic adventures,
to besprinkle sulfur, this fire at rages shooting with permanence: those
ecstatic blessings, as darting into concave-hearts, to strike with vengeance
that absolute demon: our lashes blasting, this cake for riches, our
grandfathers alert but melancholic with joy: if life this me-too, by caves stressed with reality, and curved with illusions:
that tortured anguish, this corridor of
surprises, to take for sin this watered-down belief: as manic rules, or
hypomania, admired for features akin to lunatics: our purposed oak-trees, this
cypress bud, while searching rings within…our
last bonjour, our first respects,
this melody as accursed seething a wife’s proclivities…to ballet opera, while
steep this rune, where symphonies become dramatical instincts: our clown-like
resistance, this Sephora Empire, our laughs as monitored pantomimes. We could to gentle, our skin our thirst,
while leering for dying within
foreign Egyptians: this Jewish pyramid, those tales by geometry, this hay as
sufficient for one brick. (I sip lattes,
as laughing in tears, this portrait this steep vexation: to possess courage, as
carried in countenance, if but this resistant tsunami: our wants for existence,
where one was aborted, to reason with death this rich resilience: our bipolar
thoughts, our schizophrenic angers, this post-traumatic ally; indeed, to
tortures, while strategies formulate, our brains sprinkled by Herbal Essence:
if but to exist, as seizing mortality, while, otherwise, repenting eternity:
this backwards glance, nervous for trembling, at wonders while committed to
longevity: our cadence bleeding, this heart at mountains, this last page prior
to resting: as electric killings, this space I must abort, where mirrors blend
into ceilings: this self we crave, while afflicted by reality, where it felt
good to manifest). I saw for essence,
this Pulp Fiction pheasant, as
slammed a needle to arcs: to come to life, struck for ruined, a tear too sexy
for candent pictures—as itching his chains, about fettered to mist, reaching
for gripping too far to latch: that reckless bleeding, those sinews to
whetstones, our blenders serving as existential metaphors—that Stella Peony,
this valve to vines, this Coach Floral…where mystics balance, as yogis seek
battles, this field absent of but our mirrors: as sung a phoenix, this inner
firebird, while fiddling for separating firebrand: this poet enchanted, while
leaning towards senses, as hated for resisting immortal arms. (We sing with orchestras, laughing while
daughters mingle, to sense with time that men are fathers—about a hot-minute, or long this onion with
steaks, fiddling for mourning over a box of potatoes: those exquisite vibes,
this hush with time, as seated at misery mourning false representation…to churn
galaxies, wrestling with mascara, or plain a look seeking ecstasies: this
volume soaring, that music as passions, this negligee as purposed for
seduction: our coconut cookies, this buttery gloss, our edges crisp with
love…our women reporting, this therapeutic, where insistence becomes a
challenge.
