You
appear so simply, those extra initiatives, that silent gait: as aloud a
miracle, so in-tuned with feelings, and so aware of behaviors: that psychic
mind, those psychic instincts, but so sentient life is hurting: our gallant
sparks, those trenchant tsunamis, or this envy for our eyes: where others are
penchant, even delicate, while discernment flushes our converses: you spin with
glee, such a cheerful example, while burgundy souls admire kleptic emotion:
those short legs, those rubescent thighs, at radiance where breasts are a
second impute: those remarkable insights, too gifted for Divinity, while
threshed and boiled by Divinity: our throbbing mind-tiers, this trenchant in
Sarah, at vaults unpinned like dynamite: at terrible concerns, to see souls
perish, to teach a three year old: this isle of passion, those gritty palm
prints, where favor seems to ingest you: (I die in feelings, to admire those
feelings, while swarming swamps: that sure fever, those fiery amplifiers, or
that spirit of turpentine: you’ve become memories, as one destined to fly,
while remorse tugs upon hearings: that mazelike personality, that quick temper,
while softened by something inconsequential: that shocking brain, those
shocking wits, while inching towards sacrifice): that life of phantoms, this
bent where I’m concerned, or sheer jealousy disguised by academics: that sly
question, our sly responses, as to imagine Love has seen something intricate.
…at
life in you, to carry confusion, and warped where decency is observed: that
bottle of wine, those teary eyes, where one falls abandoned to resurrection:
those gritty ear-prints, our fabulous nightmare, or this something haunting our
progeny: at laughs and features, a bit indebted to passion, where Love aches
for survival: that ramming instinct, those pushy staircases, or that deep
ingredient: to flip with violence, to remodel our bookcases, where we pause to
picture underlined sentences: that atypical fruit, those atypical replies, this
newness in newness forced to evolve: as casual fools, on occasion cringing,
while onlookers are seasoned with hostility: that classroom of students, those
debonair suitors, where Love aches to return to fire: our fingers to chests,
our reversed circulation, where emphatic electricity strikes a response: our
agonies, Love, this fool so lost, My Love, at tyrannies laughing at insanity,
My Love: if but a daisy, or congenial artwork, where one must admire your
character: this flight into madness, this genetic misfit, at treasures adoring
your brows: that voyage to us, as
best of friends, to rebuke for damaged and pardoned for sin: at casual moons, or
beach-house pains, where length of days promises a few infractions…our
reflexive symbols, or years at poetics, to redeem but justice…!
…you
struck a chord, those violin nights, those sable-fused eyes: this squall and
koan, this mystic in beats, or this talisman our purple tides: those redeemed
intestines, this figure belonging to beauty, those tender imprints: at troves
with splendor, this Ghost his Bowels, to event in nightfall such glory: those
relics spinning, those eyes reflecting, as time stood in abeyance: that
graveled passion, those abstract attractions, to scent a bed in memories: that
Lexus Bentley, those chameleon revivals, while one is so close hurt would be
overlooked: indeed, this friction, those bold eyes, those trenchant lullabies:
our powers invoked, our silly banter, as cherished before horizons: those rapid
volts, those replied endeavors, as perchance a victim of deep languishing: as
now a maniac, so gone days are blurry, to rest, eat, and starve for Love….
I
die in you, to find God in you, at twilight pondering something in darkness of
you: this delicate, rough creature, those few refractions, where deeds proved
incumbent an enchantment: that hammock of cries, this hammock of deaths, to
fiddle, demand, and receive!
