if I
love you, could you please promise, as to never hurt me!
the pain is insoluble those
catharses are temporal or mounts are insufferable. it’s misery or truth or
cadence;
a gift to us such uncooked honesty
as souls inner-manifest. the anguish of adoring, by tree-stumps, a soul wringing
his guts.
or silence unbearable or
machetes unshipped where we
jettison completeness. (the castle is intimate. it renews understanding. so
suffused so broken at old unkempt laundry: such opal flowers or porcelain tulips
so much to need if knowing all races.
re-cured, a trampoline bungee, as
rushing into concrete; a slight recoil, as reversed, if to take but to give!)
admired
rosariums or jamesia pangs such a soul prone to flight; as minds un-river or Ethiopia
unwinds, we might die in resurrection; poignant mud or mayfly anxiety where a
monk is mis-fathomed; to have love to know it intimately while at wars with
Teresa. sure deliverance, a daily charm, where it feels truth such normality.
as to shiver in coldness, or too warm to sweat, as accused of treasuries; so
unforgiven, it seems flippancy, where it creeps, it screams, our minds are
monads: the gripping gnats, those antiphon arrythmias, so delicate filled with
horrors!
you might fret justification in an
artistic flare to arrive abandoned to hatred; a heart heaving a soul serenaded
such susurrus/aquiline acrobatics—as dying was tender or living was gifted
while harpoons thrash texture.
if I
love you, could you please promise, as never to give me away!
