I lose
sights a spatial man a confused warrior; such peach pie such delicate cries
while we pine those darker nights; so succulent those thighs so deliberate
those feelings but accursed and separated; such prophecy by rare emotions where
it was hell so good!
I
had to adore you while running south into something so human; those inner
rivers this sky at passion while Love is a lawyer; this working mind this
evening pain at holistic miseries; a revving creature a research famine while
bones and wolves and demons—to crucify guts to touch my eyes while something is
burning; this tragic literature this tragic beauty while I see you so
differently; this land of games this water boiling this tea-bag screaming.
But a
man for you but a miracle for you while I see you so
differently.
Our flying
souls this war we have while it becomes my hatred; this mosaic thinking or
years at feelings to fold and die.
Those
pantomime expressions those mannikin gazes while I see action as something
internal; a young black art or museums in mesmerization or memories so jaded; a
desperate outlook, a killing ocean, so gunned so torpedoed.
I cave
into you I die to live closer while I run from you; this bleeding management,
this interior pool, while rushing into isolation; a crucial creature, an autonomous
thinker, where reality is furious; this lake by abysses, or critical analyses,
where life was sweeter those days; our terror our combustion our harm and
deaths or insanities.
I have loved like
winning I have given like dying while I have kept imbalance; this curb
conversation this open liquor where hated for being its concerns; this murky
deafness this perfect family or sung for threshed and agonizing your absence;
those wings running, this fire in bowels, while unearthed, sacrificed and
damned—such jargon this piano or this scream as culture; so furious so lost
while abandoned so early; to love that man while he loved himself where you
thought of marriage.
So close
to reneging or so disgusted by feelings where it never lives out-there; this
activated hassle this leaping black horse as to wonder concerning self-love;
such occultic fever, such cultic skies where over-there Love knew wilderness;
our feuding guts this feuding feeling while it conflicts simultaneously; this
tug or pull this rule or pistol at flowers laughing and crying and wiping misery’s
nose.
It was
hell in quietude it was easy when another smiled and it’s been desperate
erasing something keen; to aggravate over this, to condemn for this, while
asking you to participate in this; such conundrum such terror where it felt like
a clear dead sky.
Too favored
by alienation, too much begging those years, while it never appeases; it’s more
with fury it is pain with anger and no matter of submission is convincing.
