…it
becomes life, staring, glaring, and filming inconsistencies: our big built
souls, our Serena stars, our Venus cries: at deep allure, at deep panic, attempting to satiate a giant: our gut wars,
our laughing intestines, our bowels gunning: our grandparents, that folksy
wisdom, those folksy graves: at particular thoughts, feeling balanced,
reviewing me heart: those classic,
solemn songs, at deep inconsistencies: our aches bleeding, our faces swollen,
our livers liquored: at crying frenzies, feeling resistant, or complicated, our
inner person fringing: (those wild souls, those terrific souls, at Love a
stranger to me guts: that broken
grin, those shaky fingers, those stinky toes): perfume to mane, powder to
privates, going through insecurities: this lively force, this power curse,
those ruby red eyes: our intoxication, our four hours, while rest seemed
inconsequential: our running guts, our fueled brains, at Love aching for a
stranger: those radical thoughts, our future selves, as if it comes this way…. …it seemed a thought, to become obsession,
to frighten something normal: our deep instincts, close to filthy palms, close
to closed eyes: to imagine difference, this delicate daisy, this delicate
machine: our fragile fragments, our fragile freezers, our fragile fences: at
color with pains, at Love reversed, to find Love as unattractive: denial,
negotiation, and acceptance: or trial, destiny, and conquering: those blue
ribs, those black dynasties, or this strange, odd community: this fragile
child, this awkward student, as considered a genius: our trippy head storms,
our algebra teachers, our destined for life professors: our nuns laughing, our
Jesus playing billiards, our Marvin Gaye’s praying: (at young instincts, this
old magician, giggling with a diamond rose: to have women, to desire one, to
crave insanity: Pantene and poses, this fear of damage, to desire a pristine
womb: at delicate souls, this man as floating, this grin as slipping):
otherwise, as perfect, those opaline features, those deep configurations: at
plain conversation, to shift suddenly, while Love thought of souls: this
blood/green stomach, those remote regions, to slip, dance, and feel
tragedy…. I loved music; I ate
romance; I pondered ways to make Love giggle: this old self, as now a lunatic,
asking too many questions: “Like Damn! we
need affection, we desire laughter, we want deep seated concentration”: this
inrush, this maniac lover, this crazed man: pulling for tugging, biting for
thrashing, or plain too sensitive: at gremlin appetites, to want more forever,
as something we can’t escape: that insane lover, those gnawing, scratching
instincts, while so tugged it’s hard to breathe: (at Love aching, at roses
nibbling, at salty flesh partaking: a silent scent, a silent waft, a talkative
lover: as quiet listens, as hushing yells, while too much seems to become
weird: this rolling curse, this generational woman, at literature to imagine
something so generous): at such burning, this heart-wave, this burgundy
diamond: driving in private, lost about us, remembering those years in high
school: that heart shaped derriere; those perfect sized breasts; those long,
exaggerated locks: to die with us, to need us, where we’re unequipped: this
symphony, this beige pain, this dirty orange horizon, this lost to dungeons: if
but a child, our wild cries, while true love makes us better: nonetheless,
such intense tugging, such elasticity, such dying to exist: those charms, or
sitting after exhaustion, while cushion gripped gently—that foolhearted rebuke,
this foolhearted woman, at tats and scars and deep vein wounds. Five Wounds, multiplied by five, this man
gunning: to revive in hell, to meet Mr. Satan, to wrestle and win gently: this
deep lose, this complicated attraction, this man’s personal problem: at mother
with fondness, at father one memory, to imagine how women stick it out: as
mother’s son, as father’s daughter, this wealth sick with psychoses: at mother
a stranger, to see her comatose, while barely a thought in her: to water eyes,
to side a sinner, to see something quite adorable: that first thought, that
ruby memory, while Love aches to Kill
Bill.
