…while
deceased a young lad, or teary for deaths, afraid that mother violates—this
cussing frenzy, this lively action, to sip over wine-cakes: this bleeding
infinity, this black sanctity, or treasured rum with teas: our broken colours,
this siren in pity, this blood-shine in fevers: this Jericho symbolic, this
training triumph, or this Jerusalem Goddess: our Artemis Cries, this deep
enchantress, or deliveries to China: those trenchant belles, this trenchant
agony, or bold with trenchant disgusts: to outwit fate, as gray gravity,
infused for dead living as life demands: those tailored choirs, this tailored
exile, or Love so dramatic our traffic has paused: at blue blazers, or velvet
vests, to assume permanence that second to climax: our inborn images, our
fabric prayers, our tragic verses: this running insanity, this therapist
laughing, this therapist frying: as hybrid exoneration, for life seems
different, as opposed to valuing pure hatred: this silent truth, this reluctant
reacceptance, or years as black psychology: this welted whelp, this cut in
marrow, this anesthesia: while some would argue, this light skinned dynasty,
while darker skins suffer endless trials: our bowels upchucking, our minds at
rivers, for something, A long time
coming: this perfect world, those reasonable fractures for strangers, while
superiors slice a piece for darkness: this meal as raging, this silent self
repenting, while begging for acceptance: this bare red fury, this blue grass
travesty, or days to pondering false upheavals: our turnstone skies, our
laughing hyenas, this vehicle blasted off liquor: to give but damned, this
woman’s appraisal, while lights bear witness to alienation: this gunning world,
this lack by participation, this cursed reality: our local hymns, our ice with
vodka, or this jinn pushing for laughter: our keen surprise, to adventure upon
life, where some souls have vetoed kissing ass: for what are persons, but
insecure jewels, while secluded from actual personalities: this man shunning,
these wrists dripping, those roses for pure deception: as racing forward, our
mane to winds, this nave convoluted and everyone needs a master…!
…it
was numbness, or gnats, or pure dissatisfaction…this jigsaw puzzle, this jutted
fury, or personalities inverted by reversals: such oaken flies, or otic sighs,
to hear a sentence verses sanity—those demons for Christians, this mind for
Psychologists, or dormant realities flying through subliminal charms: this
overworked gap, this plangent moon, or men realizing it feels good to triumph:
this father watching, this grandparent demanding submission, or this mulatto
disgusted with horrible interaction: as plants for love, where agents are
fleeing, while stems grow aborted to destruction: this mystic jute, this
cryptic flute, or days to living by a stranger’s commands: to lose daughters,
to abolish honor, to gain but Jesus: these lowly things, this high held roof,
or nights to ruby red rum: our media eyes, our inner technology, or seared duck
breasts and wild mushroom pizza: our days to fantasizing, our chewed lips, this
resilient mathematics—to want for dear life, as accustomed to refraining, where
Love seems incredible: those loud skies, this puppet submitting, or this
political giant writhing: this pawn made rook, this queen made delivered, or this
ace made divinity: (to choke a ghost, to eat an apparition, or evenings
listening to phantoms: those blue-shot eyes, this endless violin, this personal
habitat: those coins flipping, this destiny in vestibules, to thought as
demanding insistence: this skinny beaut, this inner dimension, or this book
filled with perfume scents: our eyes to needing, if but this friend, if but
this winner—at terrible arks, or petals upon sheet metal, or seconds to
infinity needing affection: those trenchant ribbons, this cinema in turquoise,
or this primal innocence while thrown to corruption: as teal vines, of blood
ache memories, to adore something dying as mystic)….
