by tender disgrace to have felt cedar
while dispelling purity. sourced by gut-phones or unknitting particles where
the mirror is too painful. those abandoned years while needing wholesomeness if
but to respect something innocent. our rapid language insomuch as difficulty
would arise where one tries but it’s too hard. our practices our faces while
yearning for something elsewhere. but racing to be good while tugged by habits
as to roar at society. the preacher is kind while so forgiving so drawn to
sweet soothing sentences. as never at blame it must be a curse while a decade
into those behaviors. such unrooted minds or some so in seclusion while purity
is perception. (the treasured glow those mounts in skies to approach multiple
founts.) if but those remedies if but indemnity while insanity is always an
option. but the poet is corrupt the poet adores holy sin where two are
resonating like fury. the poet drinks. the poet rushes into silence. the poet
comes from dysfunction. the poet is hell to everyone. the poet needs debauchery
if but to love like savages if but to degrade and feel goodness. the laugh in
my rooms the giggle in my mirrors and we never know where others are making
good fun. or so clear as arriving at each step while existence is torn
suffocation. the poet is fire, the poet requires flame where such is pure
obedience. by false compunction by tramped centipedes so curious concerning
waves. those jealous eyes if but to reason if but to censure his happiness. the
fugacious reality those skies as shivers where atmosphere becomes marmalade. so
low those times, as no one to hold hands, while abandoned where others made
love. to forgive self in order to receive others such darkened scriptures.
