I need my soul. I need her heart.
sipping like lakes dry up. tailored
for the perfection, bled for the leech, running for millennia. the crux is her misery, everyone is
bleeding, to enter her is a miracle.
a whit happy, to have worked under conditions, to hate my damn guts;
frozen, and they wonder, the campus life, kissing indiscretion; buying lunch,
trying harder, always trying differently; they can stay mad, what have I to
win, was classified a century before I popped up.
to feel a person, full disdain, classified before one can speak.
we say, Fuck them!
it
hurts so deeply, as to alter our centers, over a jug of engine juice!
Love
is vestal, pure, not because of her past, she feels enough – to be in the
moment. a brief pause, nickels and dimes, we shake that. rolling a long vehicle, made of steel,
older than my existence; she looks adorable, she smells like divinity, tasting
perfume off of her nape.
everything
on his sleeves, a Jesus soul, most won’t claim it.
unzipping,
feeling justice, sworn to praising the pain.
ain’t forgetful. I know your name. in God, the praise is for your
existence. it’s time to let pain. it was foolish to play stupid. i’d prefer the
conflict.
