so venerated such sure to certain by much—we called it, love! as a young creature too turned-out for salvation too much death by religiosity. to taste sweat to nibble nape so much a rocket—as dying so addicted too many problems. a gift but reckless or torpor undiscussed so digestive so much a filthy outcast. so polarized so much in womb so affected those darkness tears. too sullen such pressure while alienation came so supple; due amorous such a playful banter such eager devotion. our sorrow domain our gagster intestines so demolished so much a need if but to close essence—as vacant lots or spinning scars listening to Aretha; soft sipping brown flesh natural mane; to have lived in us so early where innocent as before it tumbled or became reprobate. a soul grieving where pain is familiar or touching is healing devastation; too evolved while it mattered so much where souls were still bashful. such nostalgia such crooked wires where spirit requires its necessity. mirrors shocking souls or reflection feeling unbearable where attraction is insufferable. ingrown memories such sweet deliverance where it never gets that healthy. to find or look or cherish
disgust those cries as so
pure or demons so undiscovered.
somebody rocking or dying
so desperate to own if but as mentor. our baked guts our laughing intellects as
to look back & sense pure nonsense; due so enlove or nectar-grip-city
abased by everything we failed!
