contingency depends on necessity. I
daydream, scream at dreams, fused to die in a room. do serenade, oh Japanese
goddess, oh tender anguish, asking for hands to hold.
over a requiem, we dine. over
inflation, we chat.
sour candy, made delicate, pardoned
by sincerity.
symphony, strings, silence,
corruption.
to have never loved, prior to
seduction, made so intricate, made so shallow. adrift over vulnerability,
chained to senses, to have every element in surprises.
by a tempo in monsters, irregular
souls, diplomacy sits at its guillotine.
raw fiery flames.
I would love until—it was pain—until—it
was misery.
never such sensuousness. never such
overt dying. so kindled, upon grace, doing more than erotic; some theme we engender,
some carpet we christen, rug churns, anxiety hugs, departing in memories.
by the timbre of passion, love made
inauthentic, so cursed, I need its agony.
many seabirds out of place.
by a sky, filled with strobes, we
come to accept our ruins.
if to live in essence, bodies dying
lessons, or condemned for unacceptability; as non-susceptible, as a holy
mistake, cultured, aflame, trenchant in one womb.
somewhat a beast, a charm, a
mirage; or so real, challenged, irregular; as a recovered addict, facing more
rehabilitation, knowing, it will never become life.
a last creature, disputing his
legacy, charged by one mistake.
