You bring joy, in hurting you sing, in dying you resurrect me. You’ve sung silence, forbidden to partake, eating sunshine—by sorrow of happiness, by raw contradiction, to have lived by transgression. An obstacle, a debacle, trying to figure designs—lofty hearted, swift to wars, assumed as innocence—over mountain dew, sullen comforts, amazed we dance at times: stars bleeding, moons wheezing, a flower for a demented appreciation; absurd attraction, as it ruins me, to ask total silence—like running in place, tiring settles in, to ask total abstinence—from aches, science, rules, fancy. No one is worrying. We do as we survive. One should need to on our behalf. Banshee wildness—wraith humans—demons in disguise. Oh Holy Sinner, with art screaming, do walk and never venture in return. No one is worrying. With days aloof. As one reports what was read. It destroys itself. It hates its reflection. It becomes wooed by niceties.
You bring joy, in hurting you sing, in
dying you resurrect me. You’ve sung
silence, forbidden to partake, eating
sunshine—by sorrow of happiness, by
raw contradiction, to have lived by
transgression. An obstacle, a
debacle, trying to figure designs
—lofty hearted, swift to wars, assumed as
innocence—over mountain dew, sullen
comforts, amazed we dance at times: stars
bleeding, moons wheezing, a flower for a
demented appreciation; absurd
attraction, as it ruins me, to ask
total silence—like running in place,
tiring settles in, to ask total
abstinence—from aches, science, rules,
fancy. No one is worrying. We do
as we survive. One should need to on
behalf. Banshee wildness—wraith humans
—demons in disguise. Oh Holy Sinner,
with art screaming, do walk and never
venture in return. No one is
worrying. With days aloof. As one
reports what was read. It destroys itself.
It hates its reflection. It
becomes wooed by niceties.
