Karma,
my love; to speed through galaxies, petting a tiger.
It’s
pure delusion, to love for a myth, to purchase illusions.
We
picture so cosmic, a paranormal love, to dangle from
Jupiter;
and what of Neptune, highly hypnotized, racing
from
jaguars. I chase for essence, fully excavated, to pace
a
cave. Here’s an ankh, a symbolic language, to nurture
beauty
for roots. You’re a lavender rose, silver thunder,
even
magic raptures. I’m driftwood, fully unworthy, to pose
as
carpet. I’m even luggage, plus, a yogic tea, to pay for
ransom.
We’re cherries, mere buds, ravished by a meerkat.
I
must to fawn, where you ponder hertz, a prose made of
Mars.
We love so deathly, deaf to love, where a soul panics.
I’m
ash for symbol, to color a third eye, living through
shadows.
It’s torn for underground, to melt for cloud-born,
trickling
into a nightmare. Is it all confetti, a lute of cocaine,
purely
through mental? I ask—to love further, to string
with
hemp. You’re my halls, ever my clouds, grounded in
distance.
I’m merely grass, trampled underfoot; and here
you
come, kissing for laughing, found to rub an ear. We
float
to mourn, but something is kept, where both are numb.
Our
days are sullen joy, to love nightly, among saffron buds.
We’re
lost, ever exotic, a patch of tropical flowers. I moan a
cactus,
you strike for gold, and our reservoir is mystic. Only
by
chance, to nibble apricots, to nurture butterflies. Such
fuchsia
dreams, colored with furniture, but two worlds apart.
I’m
tatted to live, a tropic nuance, mining for diamonds.
You’re
a debutant, a pageant winner, a touch of perfect.
You
know for forks and knives and spoons; where life for us—
is
more a myth. So teach, love; to know for karma, to speak
for
color tones. It’s more a wheel, an incantation, to
overlook
flaws. We’re hummingbirds, ever to morph, a pair of
fables.
