by mud to need rinsing
by penalty to know wrongness so wrong to think of you – a miracle madness so
meshed in panic so close it ruins accountability. a heaving heart much warmth
in its chamber so cursed to have loved you – a wild wicked niceness, I can’t remember
us, seated in a shoe box. re-affected as years pass so great the sap of intimacy
– a running magician a rugged edge at the fringe of addiction. winds swooshing
waves swashing bodies in collision: buried in you laughing with you like a fool
demanding of you. upon a common pigeon feeding at a park a Labrador approached.
the wife watched, the dog was nosy, she called, he didn’t respond. she walked
over, it wasn’t time, I was polite. the want for carnivals the feeling of
clowns that ache we feel inside. a circular catastrophe a problem in
calculation while death isn’t the issue, rather resurrection. still waiting
while enjoying if but pure consumption.
so torn inside
rough color inside at a wildness unknown to me. at a loss at a river at a situation.
the face of innocence the body of Mae West the pain of Phillis. like rushing
into a husky voice or radiant like a candle such hourglass predictions. I was
wanting you I was a furious slave I picked until my knuckles screamed. I faced
wilderness so wrangled at war to ignore where Jesus left us. a reason to sketch
a second to be a lost warrior while coming across you seems cruel. days of this
life or survival as a merchant too medieval to ignore our connection.
a man as a
machine, we’d have it no other way, where a soul was hung in passion. by crime
in throws so ruined so wrinkled. dripping with lust or pure lasciviousness
while concupiscence is condemned by religion. to imagine holiness devoid of
sexuality is akin to believing God has condemned women.
