I
reckon your death but a man dying where you try to love; the fountain bleeding
the faucet choking such furious chaos. I try to empathize I try not such wrath
or a selfish flea; so resold so rebought as a soul mis-gathered. parts or
pieces or luxuries as a man in cuffs. to die those ways so caged or affronted
while a long stress was fortunate; for pigeons cried or a sun fell, it was
deluxe candy.
you seem like
dying or heard a musical while fleeing for captured. so much those margins a
woman too strong a feeling like damn this world. such sexual underpinnings or a
man with problems as so confused so battled, I know, for I’m glooming. such
sweet kef the others might see or tears into tiles wiping our futures. so
abandoned to our habits. so thrust through by our concentrations. or left
behind ranting to rain.
I
arrange in fury I fret in panic those palace eyes this fool’s mirror those
years it was devastation. by simplicity into a middle life where mid-machines
attack a pearly gut—those feuds such passion to adore a woman might glance or
giggle—those roofs those rails this track those cuts; to attune a tone to love
a woman while a man just needs three guarantees. so much as bare-backing if to
feel safe as accustomed to believing this is our child.
I need to laugh I
need to cry I could if life was pleasant. I looked at you, I angelized a
miracle, I was hurt to disagree with perfection. such music eyes so heavy a
cheetah out of breath. I could have misery, I could thresh sorrow, while
anxieties surround such jovial absolutes. it was life in a second, it was
everything made rainy, it became something so anti-poetical—to feel raw reality
or a soul so anti-me as bubbles form dreams where screams cry at us melting.
