while
I fever as a tiny whisper so acute into those painted cries. oh such dementia
where death was tender as she caressed his ache. it seemed familiar it tasted
like adolescence it was good in my eyes. such glow or snowed personality as
accustomed me to treasurers: purple abandonment or a woman which loves while
she drives for phallus menu. those pink accessories those light hairs or
assailed by an inner leprechaun. the cirrus clouds the fallen angel while I ponder
if he might repent—the stars to his grave the sun to his resurrection while
existence is brand new. so into musing you but so restricted inside while I don’t
know of eternity; for adoringly the fire or rapaciously the interior while
thirsty for defenses: at battles or cages where I drive by spirit-prisons—those
esoteric dilemmas those unearthed predicaments while I wonder if you might be
savior. such a burden as to claim majesty where one is made responsible; but
what are we asking, in that event, where two journey into marital conundrum? it
becomes baptism, sacrament, & church: those crest-moon eyes, by almond enchantment,
so subtle a thief so beloved—an itty bitty doubt confronted by evidence while
lovemaking is the emission of sanity. such lustful holiness while preoccupied
where sanctity isn’t the frontal pose. our damaged fears those salutes to pain
while fretted if life might be the same.
