by anguish such a forged
voice so thrown leaping skies. a pregnant abduction surefire grieving so much
to adore one last dejection. such a hostage by self-assurance so devastated by
its curse. massaged into gravel or abandoned into fury such enriching trauma.
certain to fly or flee or reframe a frozen extreme. too close to fathom too
much love for clarity while terms shift without reasoning. so spatial or
meanwhile a phantom adorned in surrender—those days it was unreal or felt
deceptive as time would disgrace itself. by strange memory to have become so
much reality where respect is cuffed or dangerous for motion unweaves something
threaded by imagination. so witty or so precious while so human; as Quakers
shiver souls tremble where coming to silence is terrific agony. it was us in
screams or te amo behind veils or deeper into some missed art. so much
gravity so fallen where no one goodness passed by. we never held passion as for
keeps to exhaust its fire—to grow wings to hurt such delight as accursed so
thrilled to fathom—its moon its dirt its elegance; as dead to others fiending
to arrive as angry to disappoint; our anxieties such nothing in this world as
ever to cause us restraints. a soul in terror a mind in angst so much a dirge
as it screams. by requiem or elegy so fierce while wrapped into our desertion—as
desert creatures pure sweet balance, as never a person so tender. our last
suture our fallen angels if but to awaken with lust begging or pleading into a
vacuum so full it feels empty.
