the keynote is
suffering so mannish so Armenian at epitome like falling. 20 pieces of silver
for a man’s honor, repenting, begging to redeem self. at ideal love, at ideal
sorrow, at ideal seduction.
some women dance
like science, they perfect identity, they give a man his courage—a deaf fool
for her, a maniac running into her, so psychopathic so distant—she’d never
fallen in love.
a punctured vein a lost lung an artery in your eyes.
I met a woman, I’ll
keep it private, but damn the way gods debate sanity. to burnish emotion so raw
how we die if only this than that.
give me form. let
me breathe. come to me with your career. Fret this fretting day!
I need final
closure like guts hanging so thawed she got in.
never to examine
us. never to sing us. like academia is personal-impersonal.
I was gunning in
the gutter lane, I was shocked at sights, to handle from a sunroof. those eyes I
saw, her essence cringing, at my neck a piece as it screams.
wounds are
knitting me, changing my perspective—I need to believe it will occur. so much
value. so empty. never a reflection of what I die for; much evidence many cries
in an afflatus.
has it come to you—a
need for more—as something proving/preventing rest? a paradox as it flames so
cursed it feels normal, as giving a child death by the gates.
you make us
speechless. you look terrific. you have singular plurality on the brains.
so unfeatured so
unraveled, how do we get to Penelope? some dream, I know my reasons, it’s a
closed refrigerator.
so much another
league, too much a surprise, a man undresses his philosophy. strong as a
soldier, cleared for war, tugging at a love letter.
