too
much magic too adored so much clutching or dying while Love was Black German. I
would croak or stress blood such sweat as brine. too confused to breathe so
messed off liquor while I couldn’t have a problem. I speak to me because gods
know, no one has a rehab addiction. by millwheel or haystacks if but to locate
my face. it was years into havens or morning brew while most would struggle
until noon. such angst such dear anxiety so refaced so damaged but sweet with
ink. I tarry in there I vanish in there I resurrect to die again in there. so
immortal such a spirit like ghosts in a haunted house. trying to write better,
going for rawness, while bleeding sincerity; a woman so much, as never to love,
where it guts the monster. so needy for thoughts something correct to have a
lasting solution. at desperation, as grime for solvent, where a man might live
a chaste wife! I felt a collar I became too holy I was glowing at odd times;
searching circuits defining origin such a true disciple. to have croaked to
outwit myself while claiming something irregular—its love for wilderness its
cradle in bones where a vestibule was fraught by trees.
on a sofabed with an ink pen our
carpet holds memories. I seduce shags I get information I found grass. I saw
hash I came closer she was unaware of dark skies. my eyes were sunken my
countenance was jazzy my outfit was million-dollar newness. sudden euphoria
those lights brightened the walls were cocaine white. the shags lied the soul
knew but Love mucked and loved it. such solicitudes such vicissitudes I ran I saw
portraits—everyone was naked.
I saw a magazine. the letters kept
moving. the story was untrue. to love like a fool to imagine for best while she
couldn’t when days are so gloomy. a ceiling freesia those gates & walls,
while Jesus is at the fence. such mind-stains, such carpet beliefs, while
misery might bond a family. I ran closer. I hit the churches. I repented upon
pews. the daunting task the dauntless ambition while death was on promo.
