but a sinner
partaking of demons so naïve concerning heaven. much to die for at much to live
for the throne bleeds its crown. so dignified so hectic so sensual—a man
gripping his tongue, never said much, unqualified for an ideal kingdom.
slithering, hissing, coming around on a scholarship, Love is a genius, sorted
by seduction, biting, fearing, so brave. a deadman a madman as graduating into
hell—fire reversed shot into a jungle a leopard running into her spirit.
but an angel
partaking of sin like watching until it hurts—the flame of our castles our
interior mistakes sweet deliberate inculcation. a man baffled, a soul battles,
looking at God’s Banner. a table full of cups, differing in sizes, only one
said half full. Love has strawberries, cherries, watermelon, laughing,
giggling, suddenly seized by tears—a feud inside, a weapon inside, a man just
died inside—courage to get up, courage to make it to a psych, courage to exist in
much a crooked design.
can’t find some
people. others carry the weight. most appear when celebrity has been captured.
things we undergo, reasons we speak, casting pearls to swine. a friend doing
his time, unlucky in pain, we seem too fierce. most angered. most deceived. we
do what we endure. some disagree. life is splendid. on my soul sits an
umbrella. deep in shadows thrust into luxuries too young to cleave. maybe a
good person, a good woman, what in hell!
militia living.
terror living. at equals with rivals. a brain at work. a man lives his sin a woman became
her angels most will die unevenly.
a book sat on a
chair. it was Machiavelli. we read a chapter. couldn’t do it. couldn’t
acquiesce. most weren’t listening to me—not that man. take a look at me, lost
it several times, chasing like a man in his Navy—gunning with words shunning
myself much humility to make a little sense. Love is living like craving
popping big smack. we might laugh a bit eat a snake a pit much grit to see
success.
