indeed,
Love—the sun was debunked the violence felt softer our minds bleeding asphalt.
a man went ballistic the moon got ghost a psych was reticent, reluctant, while
rating on a scale. so unmasked so selected where he was of deep interests; so
bombed-interior such a fine villain where snakes were intoxicating; the cobra
those adders such venom tasted like crème. I vanished often for years abducted
by lifestyles: so abstruse such deduction while I danced like maniacs—to cure
her eyes to talk so deeply as a kiss felt like magic; so mystified so much a
scent while I never knew women could adore so harshly: such finesse such golden
palms while I managed to break skies: the man unadorned the animal riding
horses as to gallop looking back: those oppressive forces those hickory sticks
the lash so near to exploding. a man dies, Love, he tries harder, Love, his
psych might ache a feeling it seems familiar. so seduced by caring so enveloped
in psychoses while most so frightened of the primitive man; but over those
hills upon a mansion those roofs they sung.
I could the fires
affected by anxiety while gazing into prowess—those fierce messages as time
would undress or the sad/final second—gripping sheets asking or pleading if but
one more kiss our dearest Love. a man would croak as destined begging
forgiveness: the bed laughing the ceiling gawking or floors absorbing
animation. such stellar panic if but to cherish while shedding dignity—the bled
concrete those terrors in screams or so shameless it aches to look higher.
