precise
indecision, as never a wholesome prison, I can’t abide by just you. a gut man
in a caravan as dropped to quicksand. bleeding in his palm, our measure of
love, so many dying in fields. collapsed over, sweating, heart screaming,
slapped by a hickory stick. many mad at me, many unknowing me, like pain isn’t
our rule. son deranged, daughter pregnant, a life we can’t live. finding it works,
blue-collar living, or white-collar excuses—plagued as dying, cotton like
candy, tobacco fraught by tabasco. Love is fine, a web in a net, most don’t fathom
how humans think. cultic trembling or eyes screaming or hating the man mother
is dating. deathless abuse so caused by violence most continue existence.
color is at war
merely in perception like minds make color. a bitter man a sick man so many
times I saved your life.
mandrill laughs
running into South Bay, driven by a mythical radiance.
so dirt given, so
ghetto high, looking at some failing to know self—like trying to become at
trying to be a woman, so pulled by momentary/monetary goals. a man is a maniac.
he tries so hard. he reknits azure begging for skies.
over figs a smile
over guava sweet hatred much a lotus for Buddhists. a song of silence a race of
ghosts while feeling faceless—by graves in unction in bleeding to remove you,
with hell in me, for I can’t be complete.
a garment was at
your shoulder, I saw a collar on a woman, I heard omens in our signs. dismal I
AM, suffering inherently, monogamy an imposition. I select to die with you, I demand
to carry myself, I never touch another. some are gifted, like flying lunatics,
they hate those trying to un-butter their bread.
