by timbre of the tone by color of its
sound—into another city so dear to dying Love is raining. her philharmonic her
nightmare such a flippancy. so pathetic so much a slave as we go rounds taking
orders. years passed. we crossed paths. a house a husband a child. I do often
my sound in essence so deliberate as walking further. too knotted to linger too
unknitted inside while a linchpin hangs in balance. many would scream beauty,
might die so infused at a sinning moment. frequencies or dear deaths a man
enlove with darkness—as she buries insanity wild deep thunder such a wafting
season. so much infatuation as never heard you a legend near Downtown. so dear
a tease so pleased to surrender such curse in a man without a name. self-possession
is bottled, others are just happy, while I keep confusion—those bare blood eyes
those hazel lips while it never concerned decency. ceramic thighs or geranium buttocks with a
face too delirious to remain private. as a pirate sung like Jesus won, in arts
we need something metaphysical—beyond art beyond dying we need to immortalize. “Do
you live, Is it painful, Do you need company?” so much riding so sacred a man
would feel like exhaustion; so boxed away, years have passed, Love is alone
with a son. they call us cold, but father will return, it becomes hating
self. alcohol or nose dust or frantic
into withdrawals – so abused so loved like pain is sweet candy. so many times
as to revamp so destroyed with each woman. I crossed a line but it must be real
or it tastes like vinegar. to see redwood eyes or baffled she's so damn small
while it feels like a white man’s haven. too much to distaste you, too much
cashmere, while private agonies eat marshweed. a sinning man – made impeccable
delusion, where we assume too much privacy. if in one or assigned to daisies so
cursed where it felt panic. I was sickrooms in a straightjacket while life
seems fabricated—miles into Egypt like drugs in Jerusalem so many disturbed
headed to church. I slipped, it came out, but damn be good or listen to skies.