I
took to fantasy to possess one like you a man an angel but a demon; such thin
lines or probable cause linked to pity or ice or worse; to need instability to
yearn for stable quarters while unsure if such exist; such bone of my bone such
agonizing daughters around such indifference.
A
soul died today, running to God or pleading to soon return; by those eyes by
those extensions as never such fairer flesh—our battles over derrière.
I picture in stressors to
have adored a splinter where Love was ruthless: never by passion but ever by
self-hatred to spread so loosely; a man deceased in you but a war in time with
you too callous to swear for you.
I
knew this life this churn this miracle; to aside in mire to arrive at snow
where such was filthy.
It
would die in me those feelings so excruciating to emotion so deeply it felt so
real.
I abuse this self, so
abandoned so ancient; to remember our sunlit marrow or to harness a spirit-bone
so muddy so close so resurrected; that first day to cleave by gaze while
looking into aura energy; this man dying again this sin so beautiful while a
man might war for a queen; so indebted to the goddess so afar from the goddess
into an atmosphere too arrested for the goddess.
If
something different, kill us, if something electric, free us, while liberty
appears unjust; to know, Precious, was to die, Precious, affixed or submitted
to irregularities; as mother died this shaky case to arrive at an accidental
overdose; this fair woman this machine by arts where pills and drugs were so
inveterate; such bleeding tortures such a teaching device as aloof but too
close to escape; our gutted memories, our terrible truths, while a man might
have forfeited ethics; if but to die if but to live because Love seemed too
perfect to reveal; as a man so temperate at a woman so lascivious while gauging
if stereotypes are more than stigmata.
It has been those years in
dear retrospection losing so much to gain terror—too alert to mechanisms or too
at love to be normal as accustomed to pleasurous reigns; like a masochist chasing
you or a plagiarist listening to forfeit eternity in three breaths; so low in
wilderness or so high in fantasy to address you like ghosts are forests.
To applaud darkness this
current where windiness travels; such unearthed magic such energy manipulation while
a little girl just needed one wand.
