it was lies so tender such detrimental cadence—those veins those flowers such scent to guts—as died a man such looking so shook while he couldn’t win. those backyards those back-havens while a man is alone. such bleeding but not blood the canopy on fire; such ironic feelings, for Love was maniac, such ruthless betrayal. as cultured to paranoia our insensitive grays, while adoring something
so evil. it lives in hypersensitivity it remains hypervigilance but such energy generates mathematics.
I could walk away if not for mystery to imagine such intense reception. a mallet to words but hectic or horrible such near deaths. by angst or color such suffusion into a glimpse.
to assemble an army as to take his woman while Love is powder or pills or a screaming uterus. but valleys we ingested those high-hills were effective such sweet candles. by oddities to clamp you by miracles to seduce fidelity insomuch as a man kills his sensories. if but to live so close to reality while I never met one singular; those plural maps those longer roads where pavement is grieving his presumption;
such repute so stealth where a man might lose sensories.
I left permission to die or entered permission to live while Love aches those tears as abandoned to features. an eyelash means much a thigh gripped means more while we need exclusivity—in a world so angry in a system so designed while most are hard to find sweet justice.
by splendor of eyes by stipples of hearts or to savor a day’s scent. our breathless or endless infection. our lying guts, our tortured aches, such muscle in such words, “I love you.” such by riddle but ever at mercy so close in a land disturbing its mistakes.
