days
to passion,
souls and islands and crystal-purple
eyes:
diligent
brains,
in-sized
tentacles, and
the capacity to scissor through
minutia.
souls
churn to discharge pain.
the gravel is foreign. balloons
inside, drops of vomit inside.
floating clouds. an afflatus seeming so real: hereupon,
the
faith in mysteries, spiritual kisses, shoulders
shoved, minds with manic
awnings.
I
remember awnings, scents wafting, an
Arabic
sky. I’d lost sanity, pitted
by insanity,
a disquieting experience. that voiceprint,
my own kleptic heart, memories bedded in soul-soil.
bubbly eyes staring back.
tiny
limbs holding weight.
essence
tented by the betrayal. mimicking realism,
featured in chaos, granny exchanged her force.
instant
disliking, exonerating myself, others were to partake.
moonrise,
porcelain stars, a wound for the beloved.
scholars tinkering, addicts leaping, the parade and carnival.
inner
pain, steep insecurities, power made lethal, given over with time. I remember rooms, seismic currents, and fulgent
inrushes.
intense
hours, love was at war, banshees were screeching. inside irritation, tantrum mantras, worlds
melting, the murky segue.
inner
misprints, those thoughts to Venus, that hectic downcast.
purposed
for dreams, scarlet scars, losing something miscalculated. passive beauty, shifting music, sudden
asperity—
perfect
assessments, richer requirements, and sandcastles
afar
the dreams.
