the
core is pure, its heart has scrapes, gnawing chemicals. no one wins, while most
win, another paradox. psychomotor pains, psychoactive flame, unbothered,
uncured; wind-cranes, gusts into wilderness, gnawing flesh—languishing, mouth
bloody, made into a straightjacket. the hour tells a symbol, we all submit,
what for ignoring time? the fount gushes, a soul floods, it wasn’t supposed to
be like hell—more mercy, new Oldsmobile(s), old school indifference. how it
came, she was anxious, she had desires—sour rain, acidic fire, seduction becomes
a ruler—giggling over make-sense, he best giggle, so charming, a straight eclipse;
over coffee with cakes, asking greater whiskers, goals, tags inside—answering,
like embedded in us, so much, so precise, many months ago: hoping dearly, dying
with pressure, knees to mud, gut to vomiting, needing a Renaissance. just
passing through, just watching fragments, seated like a decent joke. never
thought to own a person, it was never an option, finding love carries a sense
of ownership. immediate reverberation, resounding cries, silent, unspoken
agreement. each may have obsession, with one the mind’s compass, no more
perfect, no more indifferent, no more receptive; like a manic tsunami, sexual
to the tooth, like demons snatched the lifeline.
