Worse in breakage, filth in pains, to hurt and die one
final breath; sexual pastime, angst, anxiety, to have dirt, to make film, with
damages slaving for freedom. Bodies raving—by brain battle, alive it would
sense its destruction. Looking in disappearance. Framed in darkness. Everyone becomes
pirates. Teal black ships, sails bleeding innocence, a deadman walking. So
insidious, so loud the nights, rolling, most sinful, to laugh, drop a tear, and
frame a high five. Portrait smiles, sorrow made happiness, filled with tomorrow’s
hopes. Dying to please, teasing at a flaw, either she loves or she dies. Luckily
at failures, fevered at osmosis, if one performs life is still gray. Could
never believe in fidelity of flesh, only loyalty of acts, to wonder what life
demands. Either all of nothing, or nothing of everything, to adore Love come
sins of skin and water.
