by
sweltering intuition, as believing sight unseen in essence such nectar. those
feudal instincts while speaking to angels such raw/hectic languishing. so many
violins it’s hard to differentiate its pain to disclose but love. such a
channel so unadulterated where a person might inhale you. I’ve been low or
ruminating where it isn’t solely aggravated. such age on us or cute habits
while closeness might seem difficult. but Love is ecstasy or years such
ruthless sophistication—not merely distinguished but framed anxiety while
touching seems our first miracle. (it was red soil or crows watching or a
phoenix in the winds; to suggest I may perish if ever too much as abandoned to
angst or existential—those bloody eyes such social shedding as lakes remind of
eyes so distraught. the daughter in you the father in me or such one becomes so
greater mother’s degrees. to die forever to live forever while it all becomes
something reaching. but Love is genius or Love is irritable or Love is moody
while she serves breakfast. our sore condition so aloof to himself where agony
is sweet temptation. if but to adore some version of a mirror so distinct so
designed.) I would to savior as saved by skies where our hearts know for
deficits; such passion as it bled such fruit as it spoiled or such vegetables
as they withered. to need a beat to drown in loving while one must turn away;
for needs are rituals or dinner is for souls while I die so close to the one, I
die for; sunlight might decay evenings might evaporate while I dance in shadows,
I loved us!
