let
the bass be its jewel—those penalty cries—days evaporating, cautious mistakes,
let forgive or chunk the flint—of nightmares.
many
claim it, never experienced it, any kindness, is seen as super compassion.
bodies
with locks, banshees screaming, a kelpie dying; full force frantic, too much
travesty, torn by the touching.
it
becomes easy—the repetition, so raided inside, such thieves, the temple is
ravished.
by
luck to meet, by intention to change, if to become with fever—some angst,
precious surrendering, tugged by ancient habits.
made
a participant. made indelicate. too much uneasiness—over something most can’t
handle.
so
convinced inside—that true warmth, is true cadence, where some love like
beehives: daily discussions, bringing it back, first date enactments, happiness
taken seriously: kids, friends, family gifts.
the
roads are labyrinth, filled with open highways, a ventriloquist is waving carrots.
it
must be mental—the way one enters—where a soul can’t imagine hurting the
beloved.
