I
was weak for something spatial, ridiculous, and crucial; those blackout moments
sensed in coincidence while pedals collapsed and dynamite hit; our mannikin
seconds peering into aqua binoculars while nibbling an ecstasy leaf; red lava
eyes or turquoise fires at a daydreaming starfish; such unfurnished lies so
assailed and released while vultures act that way. I adore an image this
intimate tarantula but love is out to lunch where our horizon in under
surveillance. Those days debating you or moments sick in visions where those
aches trickled through; a dynasty man a fueled foolish man while I could never
adore accordingly. This trap in souls. This emerald frozen and shattered. If but
to live and die like spirits.
Too
much truth is eerie while too little becomes deception or so close to eternity
it kills to breathe; such foxy hands so intimate so relaxed while softness
becomes those trapped rainbows; to adore freedom or to surrender freedom while
there is need to rebel against freedom; cobra eyes has destroyed innocence and
love rejuvenates innocence while I never meant to break chains; such uncouth
flesh as simultaneously holy flesh so abandoned while I feel absence.
…but
a sluggish letter as each line comes with difficulty to imagine someone hurt
behind something platonic; those nights sitting alone a house snoring sacredly
and a child sudden to his restroom; such intimate discussion where little fever
is at questions and mother has hid a glass of cognac; we resume to something
pertinent or we relax in puddles where it felt good to stir such energies….
I
used to get lost in detailed love for it was adrenaline and it was life but
time stood in illness and something realness poked its balloon while love became
too powerful to capture. But I ponder this sickness this healing those ropes
and cliffs those diamonds and gems if but to relocate for a moment in tremors. Or
maybe to get near to one vibrating sanctities and lost in wilderness while we
find and drift and sky-heaven our distrusts; that smaller creature those taller
powers as aloof to anything posing a threat; this rarity reality where
something treasured must be protected and something cherished must be reknitted
daily; our terrible cursed blessing this fervor too dynamic where a person
becomes intoxicated in your aura. It couldn’t be essence or it must be behavior
while we rarely admit it’s physical chemistry. So weighed by options where a
woman has suitors but a couple truly speak mother’s language: a soul but dragon
flies or a horn but one frequency or polite disagreements become mountainous apologies.
Or becoming actuality for you our living room filled with iguanas at something
seemingly purely inconsequential—those blue SweeTarts or those red licorice
while screaming in satisfaction where this is natural; indeed, we desire to do
something incredible as to hear something salacious while true love requires
much ingenuity.
This
tawny light this unsacred tension or those few so drastic at portals insomuch
to die or to re-juice in you this mythic mystical madness space. Our dearer dynasties
our clever chaos while albeit it hurts, I must maintain this course. Those primrose
porches those gated autonomies or remodeled so refurbished a bit sketchy
concerning love. This stranger avoidance while loins are growling and it has
become our interior nature.
