so honest about lies so
released from juvenile where Love was seventeen. midnight eyes so delicate a
feature too much cocaine. I have disappeared those years are rolling I reappear
in terrors. such range such a curse too perfect to feel Love. I can’t fathom
it. I don’t realize it. for something seems untrue. but perdition or purgatory—these
I manage; a flickering candle a younger woman so much complication. if one knew
those infractions, the whispers while so alert to an actor—blue blood moons
such a chasm in us while arguing we burst into laughter; in seems insignificant
it seems like lies while so close it becomes murderous. by which predicament.
by which precinct. by which procedure. so predicted, such predilection, I never
felt such as it lives—those creeping ghosts those prickles wild as so acute
senses are bleeding. it was never this tyranny this magnifying essence or
jasper rainbow door fixtures. (I sat still it seemed unusual as found there to
feel left there; a dark fear while we must retire, but death is prowling—she needs
devastation.) I admire prowess or determination while shifting or sliding upon
mental breeze.
brown knees. saffron legs. jasmine breasts. a softer
scent, musical linguistics, such fair intonation. to adjust to one person to
have his soul while angered he might doubt. flowing dreadlocks, or a never-ending
neck, such shoulders carrying infinity. by spine to witness it flush so washed
so scrubbed it feels holy. such a stomach, we fret youth, so much to live for.
so partway such gateways as segue into adoring our anxieties. too much to
sustain or too little for an addict while some need damn near Armageddon—by planet
in essence or rhythm in suggestion to have done just about existence!
