I
was a soul, I became a mini-god, so grandiose—while accepted in NY.
it’s
been some time, so between us, the glitter still sparkles.
so
easy to die, so dreaded to live, I can see the mirror.
color,
aesthetic, can we escape color, can we harness aesthetic?
by
a column, in a groove, a crevice, covered in mud, and boom, you appear.
carry
my burdens, establish my charms, I’d die in us.
so
captured, so in love, with predilection for brilliant minds.
I
can’t be alone, in all I undertake, most hells come with pictures.
conceptual
soirees, painted bodies, to gaze, graph, get totally intrusive.
it
becomes a motif, years to disappear, with mirrors so darn close.
so
much quality, to graduate—top of the class—so astute, with desire, so
trespassed.
such
possession, it comes out, so natural to adore mist; to appear in a coffee
house, clothes fitted, licking a straw.
lines,
tone, form—contrast uneasy, needing closure, danger, confidence.
don’t
make it simple. raid my gut. I’ll do likewise.
