crack the code no
peace for flatness more ghosts for hunches. never royal always black a crucial
decision. to juggle identities to flush our brains to crave a particular buzz.
so many arguing,
we need natural juice.
friends at Iowa
feared fantasies, loving some partial visual. more apologetic than some more
defensive than most at a particular distance from healing.
royal habits,
seeking excellence, it might become an attraction. a fretted man an indentured
man the town is flippant—as creatures high-strung, sensitive enough to make an
impression.
eating a mistyrose
fraught by a dream our energies invested in a phantom. trying to sprout, met
with adversity, so much if it changed a man might panic. teetering on a fence
walking a dream feeding a galaxy. gnawing and gnashing or grappling with walls
a whale in our quarters. put a person up high, as upon a pedestal, it just
seemed appropriate. a person revolts she creates a riot, she tells a story of
an ice cube. so impolite so dangerous, a person just retreats—as never a clue
our dirty inclination, our filthy hankerings.
(we often ask,
“Why this person,” because such-and-such was authentic.)
a dance with
jaguars a feeling like wolves a gown in a dark room. by legends trying desperately
where it might need converse—a hectic exemption, too critical, needing to
reclassify you.
metallic lipstick,
heels to havens, skirts battling at each gesture. so distinct, unlike a
mannequin, too sincere to make it care.
a code for pain, a
pleasure it dissipates, most know us as a problem. pretty thing of the
establishment. calves screaming in terrors. a remarkable nightmare. to adore
pockets, in an esoteria, our minds slipping into exhaustion. bodies in
diamonds, fellowship across moons, a man often needs fuel.
