It
becomes attraction where irony is born but destiny is fire; this field-vest
those ancient conundrums at something near home; our battles cleaving to
memories our experiences dictating behaviors or our souls needing insistence;
but this beast in men but this feast in women as these two meet and love and
become kamikazes; such ruthless debates such argumentative disobedience where
both are filmed and captured and disproportionately enlove; this fire in charms
this cascade in rivers or this bower in sinning; to imagine dictates or to
resolve something unstable while sex and regiments seem so inappropriate; to
look at innocence this essence in behavior where one is acting upon instincts;
or related souls where ladders seem itchy and desire might carry a curse. I love
like winning this wonderful creature at ruins to learn for Love is human; this plank
to spirit this sieve to guts so threshed and uttered and regrouping; those omens
giggling as a man runs from hells expecting to meet something purer; those
darling sinews this elastic matrix or something so galaxy it erupts upon
impact; our dear dynamic if but to destroy authenticity where, and though it
angers, it appears genuine incite; to impugn everything as never to settle upon
anything if but this bell wrapped in sugarplums; our pomegranate excuses our
telephones ringing or a hunch so engrained one wonders if it’s self-communication;
our lights fretting survival where a man studies her soul while guilty for
something she desires; this fragrant animal this holy Eden or something too
reckless to admit; our hells as comforters our sainted alienation where combat
becomes something dying; released from self, running with crocodiles at caimans
and drastic deaths too invisible for one needing—this wound and welting this pond
and subversion while never a sight so radical; our foolish arcs as something
accursed and freedom we never understood.
I un-change
into attire and leap into heartache or silence and concentration into a mind-zone;
so alert we dance and we see it lightly for we desire ecliptic vice; a person
to claim us a person to swear by us while we portray something seemingly anti-angelic;
but to something scaring our souls and best to something losing grace or best
to something artificial; our years with immediate cries raging sublime at
estrogen and palaces; to lose a crucial component to feel mortality as becoming
too resolved to claim clarity; but holy gravel as needing something relished as
creatures moved by something like fire; or soul boulders debating by inception
those gates as fated too high to meter clearance; this man needing porridge or
this grace seeming too eerie while one would sell us ambiguity.
I
often fly as elusive by ransomed-pain where something feels unsure—but Love is at
annoyance and curt friend-dice or immortal activations; to need a certain class
but so much to earn a certain class where one enters support at an unclear
temperature; this fuse in us at this reality at some level where we dine and
desire extraordinary; as wanting and needing so inclined to be holy and voiced for
needing captivation; this beauty flame this bodily river while realizing
something is fey; while treated as we die others this rain uprooting our minds
where we desire something most aren’t sinning to give; this empty glass to scold
our dying so interior to reward our silence while favor seems so distinct.
