I would
affix to you if time permitted sanity as a soul unspent for you. country winds
those Kansas fields such wood brushes. by tumbling sacrifice by inner wizards,
where we pretend it doesn’t hurt. napping because of depression, in realizing I
can’t believe in you, while susceptible to kindness. a person-war a garage of
luggage while waiting for love to come. by bittersweetness to feel complete,
some odor in our hampers. most arid gusts or a desert swooshing some swash in
our oceans. to lose his heart to walk abandoned while days lonely are
dangerous, dark days. so unzipped such radical zeal, as we need one to fall
harder—if lusts let’s break beds, if essence let’s unlock clouds, but tender
into a pattern or drizzling for frantic some curse we admire. those topaz cries
those gemstone eyes while adoring you is quite easy. (I recognized mother. a
person saw a picture. most women need to feel skinny. a feature a blessing or a
travesty. waiting for pain or there it arrived so undercut for emotionality. to
watch stereotypes to be included only by ridicule. but Love is different a true
existentialist a true pragmatist. some exercise where it’s non-respected but we
need to validate our existence. or riding sun-wave, as radiant persons, at
epistemic disasters. alas! to depend on feelers to call it real just because it
appeals to space.) I play a game if but to keep sanity, I believe where others are
concerned—some breeze some nonchalance some empathic empathy. (to know one is
desperate as to reveal anything, if but to hurt others. to need some slave
while I watch we put together a vow. such family as never a chime so sick, most
need you when all is good!) some borderline a few hives just looking at
something pathetic. something naïve as believing in him, some dear obtuse interpreter.
to adore him as if gods know him, simply for sexual pleasure. but Love is
unaware, Love is part sick, she forgets her lover is expensive.
