it was years those
cries like dying twice a day—to hurt with needs filled with greed blasted off a
number of woes. cedar in his room cypress on his window muses looking inelegant—a
trial next to havens, a gut in tales, a partner had a child with a main Love. disappearing
for months. reappearing in gold. too much to accept what we hate. something to
him. something to his domain. can’t stand his breathing. following my lead,
squeezed into a box, a man must break his ceiling. Love is respected. she does
it right. a soul is given lumination. so ferric in charms so alphabetical in
arms, a man gets sick trying to own her. but more to weeds, lemongrass, or
sameness of growth. healing like maniacs crazed like omens at wilderness in a
rush.
I met Lucy
tripping into a coma more richness more deaths more tumble dirt. I loved like a
selfish fool. it was love in a prison. we must act in a sense to live. many toils
with Cleopatra, many executions, a man must know his boundaries. so unhurried a
touch like living a code like unto deaths; a breath for passion, a yogi for a
home, knowing it can’t be eternal. an old man is there a guru in havens a
feeling like a shaman. as an oarsman in a boat like gators next to inner hands.
trying to fly trying without drugs laughing it felt terrific. much innocence, a
curious danger, one would never believe it. a true seeker, only wisdom, willing
to suffer to find it. an existence, spent or re-spent, like fire in a cup. as a
schoolgirl as a nun at an island right in our writings. many chores at an inner
door while sweeping a roof. so embodied, never a deeper chocolate, never felt
that way. virtue for goodness, intellect for chills, a whisper for a decade.
hard stares those graves, abased in a dungeon, with most problems moving in
slow-motion. by sorrow walking, it grabs a drank, it sets up shop. in truth, I imagine
a dream, somewhere in stars, isolated, so enthralled the boulders are cracking.
