take
it from the gut those ruts a truck on his shoulders. I sense you but gravity is
elusive while a soul might fall. those eyes those hips at terror reaping a
black essence; to know we die to feel indifference where identity is
temperamental. at Irene while sullen, at Tiffany while appraised or Asia while
fretting some loss. people dying as accused for suicide where one would enter a
Texas Gala. so alert so much in Spain while a lady smiled, touched an arm,
while speaking Spanish. such honorable deaths such a hasty second, as just
needing to break boredom. such opalescence so threshed by dungeons with a rough
countenance. too aloof too angered while so close it happens by sexuality;
indeed, something coarse, something emphatic, while escaping self is a miracle:
the needs for hands the thirst for rawness or pictured so elated it’s hard to
say something sober; the somber fever the chattering sluggishness the moderate
flu: our breaths so heavy our eyes so vulnerable in such a second to lose
consciousness; the man to his flask the mother to her vat or the doctor to her
mind. at Lesbian literature, reading frantically, where it’s different when it
hits home. those lies I’ve told those wars I’ve entered or a man passing drugs
to his mother—to carry battles to feel like living while a group might despise
your innocence. in deeper magic while a person would believe just about any
story berating self. it becomes too easy. while so close. but knowing a man endorses
your failure. or take it from gut those draperies those women while so much peters
out: to have adored the music to have rare enchants while something in us is
but deficits.
