that you would do
that, leave a soul panting at edges a dream cutting spheres.
gelid, listless,
days are wheezing.
painting ambition,
despite, red tape, it must feel terrific.
a minor man in a
glass kingdom chipping his deliverance.
a tear contrite, a
tear in repentance, rubbing his future.
furnished, adorned
in clouds made terrific.
most enter holies,
many refused before gates, several at a tabernacle;
fervid wheezing,
burgundy-purple at blue blood.
a need for
charity, not as in help, more in fire as it breezes. like upsurge in seas like
eating whale bone like cooking our terrific dinner.
it shouldn’t feel
necessary, but hubris chambers, or trying to trigger psychoses might anger.
a nightsong a
songbird sweet beauty I can’t keep.
those terrifying
gestures, an idea of eternal, too much to tackle.
by veil over
locket, I opened said locket, I saw a face playing peek-a-boo. like an infant
in a swing delighted to receive warmth.
so jazzy. so uninterested. so much a burden for a soul. like primal ache into hemispheres
like polarized and despised.
to imagine doing
that, trying to unravel a soul, just to control a soul.
color don’t break,
it never submits, which becomes a lie.
upon a nightstand
in a dungeon sits a lectionary. as a legendary flame, as an altar, we might
meet in atmosphere.
me-amore, so tender, enchanted by
legacy. a man at his screams, a soul reborn, a heart babbling in Babylon.
a cup for a sea vision,
many kingdoms; delicate penchants, syrup as kindness, seething and vomiting and
screaming. pure rapture, confusing
rain, pellets tapping a windowpane. if living is good, dying is growth,
outsoaring is majesty.
