We must
seepage through letters or words such avenue blossoms; those cherry eyes those
hand held hearts or but one sweet pill; so many florist such nectar in stone or
purple concrete loyalty; those apricot lotions those vanilla mists while so
comfortable laughing; but teal-blue roses those rows of rosariums or jamesia
pine; to have escapes in you but the mere fragrance of you or a mystery so deep
into his guts by you; this need in us this penalty flying while a man sheds his
intestines; those days I watched those films I repeated while a man was judging
letters; machete melees or music madness so mental or too mature; angels in
dreariness or souls in agony while we dread falling too far into love; such
random moods or deliberate anxiety while a man never wishes to die; this tense
profanity or this war for participation where most are feeling a bit insecure;
but Love has romance or Love is reality where too much of Love undercuts its
reach.
We measure
scruples into being and freedoms while to adore is to trust you. I have
little glory but firm at something into core marbles; this tile of flowers this
resistant essence to reclaim myself; such rapturous pulse to elude misery so
captured by something it seals; but so affected plus stolid or such upheaval but
disregard if but to fathom something making insanity; those enthralling
passions if to reach beyond where something inside is a defensive engineer;
those dear chrysanthemums or that last garden where I sat and re-scribbled the
sky; those alms as tithes this feeling as unique where Love is a distant
attraction; this inking heart this mental eraser while it was life to resurrect
a bit hungry this time; for the thirst was waning the winds were weaning and
the whales were silence; to unravel you or something that gathers me in this
land where chi dictates behavior; such levity for some, such sublime
anger for others—this need to love you!
It would take time
to adjust and a new millennia to evolve or poppy eyes to persevere; mannequin
tendencies to efface or art to absorb so messy inside so treacherous to self;
or trying his damndest or lying to freedoms while so close and such nectar
while a man went delirium; so much in me to dislodge me or so much in you to
deface words; so worried lately, needing a change lately, for life has become
too normal lately; this knoll became a mountain where no one is tilling and
everyone is vigil plus this silent suspicion; for it follows forever, as a
deeper stigmata, while no one truly fathoms it; but it lingers it becomes
itself while it peaks at moments and disappears; this phantom in self, or this
woman in me, while I’d behave with or without adjudgments; (but watermelon
times or too much glee while we protect not falling for raisins).
