I
went too far, as not to ajar your soul, but more a feeling streaming into
mystics: this fair fountain, this glamorous kiss, this feudal warfare: as mere
a flag, running its symbolism, while others are too weak to battle: at deep
contention, at miracle women, or to witness mother at tears: our days with
silence, our counties with venom, at lengths to evade our mirrors: but yours is
courage, inherited from parents, a bit so evolved it hurts: our inner grandpas,
our terrific soul-balls, if but too excited to touch liberties: this freedom
cast, our Luther in gold, our catches in silver: to reverse while driven, this
forward motion, while self-talk has positioned its winnings: (I met a soldier,
this mental lieutenant, this sick and psychotic professor: at rare gifts, so
humble with slight, or too observant to speak: this time in evenings, a
particular trait, to endear as mother’s remembrance): it comes with ambition,
this legacy of prose, this fair creature at skies: our remarkable souls, your
incredible smile, while observant enough to maneuver: some fitful, at a slew of
spells, to attempt to awaken: this gripping force, this incredible psych, this
inner cushion: that trinket thrall, this ridiculous wall, at clashes to witness
demolition: such bane and deaths, such reach and perseverance, while seated
with mother over lemon pie: this fantastic monopoly, this aggressive center, at
memoirs scribbling houses: our surprise at life, our guts at splices, while
driven for drastic at dynamic heights.
…such rapture and love, this need to define, as something dependent upon
action: this soothing friend, this relaxed dialogue, this person sick by
silence and running passions: our aloof segments, as consumed with honesty,
while too much fraught(s) our legacies: at ghetto memories, this axiom with
time, at dear thoughts this woman with gin: our days at converse, our nights at
indifferences, or so concluded it was time to sleep: thereto, this keen
experience, this doting lad, while Love intentionally broke heaven: our grimy
reapers, so enthused with ruins, while mother consoles a living soul: those
hallowed flowers, this passage through grapes, or this cocoon of
interpretation: to outsoar pensiveness, to sketch our reality, as one a
fireball upon seasons: this gorgeous individual, this gorgeous havoc, those
curly, gorgeous locks: our minds insync, our language dangling by clouds, our
sequoia beneath our ghosts: as flying infinities, or floating midair, to relax
and drift into a seventh dimension: at hemline moons, at haven sunshine, or
taking with force this delicate helm: where granny watches, as brooks glare,
while mother is softly effected: our waking bosoms, our heaven glories, while
Love has become a gentle goddess…. I
met a culprit, this red lacewing, those penchant hazel eyes: I was sick with
passivity, or plain a young child, while sudden upon an experience: our days at
breakfasts, our nights at Natalie’s, our nimbus chemistry: to ache for closure,
carrying our futures, while drawn for sickly about our pasts: those concave mirrors,
this thought in Love, our blue blazing brochures: our evenings with gin, our
souls with wines, our observations courting your arrival: this slant in time,
this rhythm in pains, our discourse a bit reluctant: but heaven was watching,
Ry was strategizing, as destined to become this pair: our slight rages, our
deep convergences, our inner accounts about true passion: our differences, this
angelic miracle, our announcement as one coming forth: this void in pictures,
this picturesque swan, our abilities to grip to life tugging guts: those fair
enchanters, this glorious, porcelain, green eyed masterpiece: as deep in
comforts, a legacy mid Venice, or one so enthralled our Laws were calling: such
attention to delights, such rich secrets, about life living as The Drummonds:
this character sullen, this picture in angst, a bit enthused with existence:
our painted concrete, this wealth of decisions, our audience despising our
grit: as men gunning, to capture paradise, while unaware of inner omens: at
turquoise adventures, tumbling with weeds, where moments converted doubts: our
screams lethal, our dreams unrehearsed, our guts raging!
