so
many inhibitions while I can’t lie—it has been existential crucifixion; eyelash
confusion but Love is dying where sex is so detached; our thrown caves our
rocks in summer or so removed I must get high; as creatures eating haystacks or
poets chewing wormwood so needy or resilient after aches or chains; our babbling
selves as we reach inwardly without one belief in what was said. that
outstanding tongue those rescue rafts where a man died in his camera; too
confronted to sail or at souls needing penalties where flogging-penance isn’t
enough. I was late with survival I accrued deep remorse or it was dogs gnawing
metal; our metallic guts our threshed delights where one was bleeding for Jesus.
such miracle if but clarity while forgiven, I must repent or slammed in dirt,
rebooted and let loose insomuch as powers but sympathy or feeling like liquid
soot; so hard on mother or empathetic with father, as not a ruse but quickened
understanding; but I give praise to something uncanny while alert that Love is
part heinous; this root in spirits this cage this social flame where we must
conquer; our subjugated brains, our width for tolerance, while awesome sex
might create hatred. so many shivers such a rushing omen so cemented to
intestines—as it smiles, but a feature to your face, insomuch as professing
something raw has taken place.
