I philander thoughts, this cleft afflatus, as driven a psyche screaming
its essence: our radical cries, this vivid elation, our obscenities serving as
entertainment: our fatal lies, this cavern of alibis, this pattern of bruises: if but to remember, that tender
touch, so sweet to kissing a rendered hush: as mortal kinsmen, afflux such
hatred, to find this music our machination.
[I mesh purity eyes, involved in treachery, to carry this portal named,
Humanity]: our terrible feelings, at once, to cages, to flee for absorbed in
miseries: this call screaming, this demon moaning, our daily resistance. It shouldn’t to perish, this welt in souls,
where enough becomes barely
sufficient. [We exist feelings, if but
that essence, to adventure similar sensations]: this mental gate, those torn
endorphins, this winter’s categories: as apertures bleed, while steep our
crevice, searching for lying concerning our praised egress: this rich entry,
fraught by muscles, as gripping for deaths this blossom in bloom. I felt for perfect, exclaiming insanities, as
one afloat that entryway: this gated community, this gateway to delusions, this
hatch unlocked for sheer embarrassments: if but ingress, those horrible skies,
as opening for conniving this reframe: those elated portals, this hypomania,
our posterns screaming returns: as slammers rave, to cut with silence, while
alert this reaching matrimony. I’m
depth to limbo, this torturous abyss, fleeing for arriving in mental
Gehenna—this futile demand, if but to dream, while passive this inner tsunami:
our summer Hades, this steep perdition, while at Love forbidden from actualities: this scream dining, this
woman as noetic, those introjects as livid: our psychs to combat, our
psychologies to pits, this suffering to a land called, Survival. It flows with
harmony, this cycle called, Forgiveness, to
hush with underworlds: this man livid, as torn to arts, fraught for abated by
Abaddon: this space those dreams, this bottom arising, our days to ludicrous
affirmations: as everlasting, this fire by thieves, to resist but found contemplating,
Artemis: as said souls, or silent suffrage, afar a chaotic sensation—where
daughters laugh, as mothers cry, this paradox by simultaneous feelings. [I gnaw brimstone, to elate in eyes, at
memories a decade into our futures]: this mystic wailing, this whale screaming,
by obstructions our brains. I find with
life, this infernal kiss, where it felt good to appear as fledglings: our
mothers at wars, our fathers to streets, this feud demanding our resistance—whereas,
this adult pattern, this maze by men, this mental lower-world: therewith, this
wretched appraisal, this candent praise, this routine as daily our agendas: to
nether this existence, as flushed with panic, to anticipate this mental image:
this place of torments, our immortalities, this welkin nirvana: as mortal bars, or helmet scars, fleeing for losing
paradise: to seek this come-after, this wellic
Arcadia, this portal’d atmosphere—as ecstasy laughing, or fathers wailing, this
passport beyond our azure: to die with Love, as to evade such love, while
captured pursuing such as, Love. We come
to dance, oblivious our firmament, embraced by felicity’s sorrow: that
enchanting meerkat, that salacious butterfly, this pollen rich in vinegar: if
but to sing, as sung our lungs, while silent a desolate room: to cry fairyland,
as reaching magic-springs, where adore felt
unbearable: those Canaanite hips, those Hittite thighs, as eyes seep into
ceilings: this hereafter, as once after-here, captured for wrestling
Shangri-la. I ache upstairs, this subtle
insanity, our walls transporting violence: as curious souls, wavering through
decisions, at tetherball through fantastic images: this place in hearts, as
skies would tell, while immortalized in pictures: that deep blue, those
turquoise trimmings, this trip by lights this next-world. I confess to passions, living our wonderland,
attached for resented pleading our gazes: this temple in Zion, those marble
bricks, this essence screaming by vengeance: our kleptic watches, those nightly
fires, this light-time resonance—while seeking home, or this great unknown,
flourishing upon happy-hunting-grounds—this life-to-come, this inner Us, this space in blossoms.
