take
it from karma into dynasties while life is essence; but surface as circumcised
if but linguini while a heart unmarks the face. smelling like kneading or
sounding like oceans so bound by beauty—such earth unveiling or minds
struggling assigned so heinous connections—those hours at glasses such homes
rebuilt where adoring became pure affliction. fennel ropes or jute passion
where valleys merge into curvatures; by glance to double-take where it erupts
such flesh into memories—those backend frustrations those moon aches into bound
by knees; bluebird dreams or emerald bunnies while it isn’t clandestine—sheer agony
or mere muscle where actions are indicators.
but a floret but a
curse but music a daughter as an image; those firing eyes this firing gut in
such a London apartment. so much to mercy where it might get old or it’s too
much to decipher; such secerns where a mind is livid while comfort would die
like essence. the gall of a man or terse agendas where something is seeming inordinate.
such sable-saffron
tears by tasmanian structure to love or care while it all feels similar. a
nearby graveyard as it yearns for more than the fleeting sensuality; but
feathers are bloody, the sun has exploded while humans are incandescent. such
lovebirds as created souls while one would converse with flowers; as never an
inclination as ever a rule, while we teach kids never to forgive; indeed, for
something close it becomes our addict magic where it must appeal to egos: a
broken sea a tasty violin or literacy as a dependent variable.
