I song
into a dungeon I eat wires I feel like adjusted—into disparaging self as so derelict
or some shelter with souls harvesting, scavenging, or ruining something
intangible. mighty into a storm, absolved in facts, so much to feel myself. a
flat machine or hyper or sad—those cadent spirals those silken webs, I’ve been
on hiatus for some grime. so addicted to losing you so found in winning you
while I wonder if essence is more important. our brains making connections our
thighs sweating while I needed someone to believe in; those days were ripe the
fillings were suitable at some market for spirits. I abandoned us I repicked us I
rethought us—like deep problems as we can’t escape with miracles seeming to
involve us. lakes are filthy but ducks or swans land for suffrage. rights to
earnings or antiquity to mourning such antebellum ideals. how in hell Jim Crow
with pain rushing to imagine what ethnicity is up against walls—but we let go
we soar with lyrics we dine on riches. as meant to love you where I couldn’t
love self, you preferred my lies—as dynasty driven such sophistication while
harboring a sexual liaison. so much it hurts. I became pragmatic. I offered an
open relationship. instead of dying like a child begging for one to ignore her
actions; such rhythm in us such acceptance for weakness where no one understands.
by dooms or electrons a soul has vacancies; by root into diamonds it cuts to
haven you. if miracles we evoke if energy we seize, but a moment in a faceless
chime. I was want for her allergy her distinguished pain as some creature
becoming human. I projected kindness. I projected great love sessions. and I projected
she would come to me first. such bleeding in turmoil such days at graces where
you understood enough to wash miseries asunder.
