cloud
haven skies or radiant black sorrow our nights pitched in crucifixions; so
white and so pure or so dark and so sure or such middle existence poignant and
uncertain; those sexual feminists those sensual womanists or seduction those
eyes those features; to cry but three tears while acclaimed as unnormal and
pitted for thrown while deception is clarified; this creature in Germany or
this vixen in France while every woman visits California; those red carpet
appetites and always so glamorous and always so altered; this essence in rites
those actors dying if but one scene too close for humanity; at a fragrant
figure and fullness with grace while no-one is ever satisfied; but Love is
statuesque and Love is Junoesque and Love is picturesque—such a vandal or villain
such a rude personality but ever so humble with patience; our purest portraits
such daring framework and such an aesthetic derrière—those risqué comments or
cleavage meant for artists or full blossomed lips meant for caresses; such
flowing mare waves and so deadly with smarts as most know a man’s brains—those
daring suggestions as a soul tries but fails or nights are laughter-cries and
wailings; never an eye for others or so consumed by our passion where it kills
and destroys something harboring its hostilities; looking at porcelain flesh
confused by holy flesh or dominated by this need to feature brilliance—those mahogany
essences those holy mountains if but our reasoning cemented in abstracts; to
die in closure to realize such freedom where chemistry struck my island—as purely
unsavory or purely holy or something gazing into characteristics and
misdirection; such a deliberate actress acute and dismissive our crude and
slanted and such a holy creature; those tragic lanes nor those deep emotions
where we must journey this village of demons; our tragedy bliss our bodily
memorization so fueled or so close where she dies to offset stability; this
hostage in brains this kidnapped agenda or this payment for seduction; to love
is but a title where we assess attributes while deep affection enumerates its
pillars; to chance in those feelings to arise in your essence to become so much
more in your horizon; at sitting dimensions so involved in mind-matter where
your presence becomes passion; this field of lullabies this infant’s crib or
this Otherness reaching its exhaustion.
it
listens to itself it becomes its nature and it dies time and again; each death
as it moves forward our souls unlatched our minds and guts fevered
hysterically; such turquoise flesh such radiant energies those freshets and
glens those avenues and valleys or this city star too beautiful to claim; our
forced participation our sterilized sex or something so inviting we call it exclusivity;
as the most holy we have encountered as the most bestial we have met or so
unclear how you have ruined me; this bouncing Ecclesiastes this innate
Lamentations or conflicted for running but so damn appealing; this fist fight
with ghosts this laughter in our mirrors while looking at lady love; interior
church so mystic the thought or traditional leadership and configurated beliefs.
