I
will fawn a bit as somewhat mawkish while trying to keep a schedule; such silky
tongues such liquid liquor at sanity by a rope; to live in smiles to die in
pains while ours is so harmful;
but psychotic features as
not for alarm for each person has one; this giggling whisper this outlandish
reply or those tender gray skies; at music this way so poignant so sharp such
delicate entities;
to
need womb from one special lake while waterfalls speak to ecstasy;
so evidential so creative
while naked bodies cook brunch; a man with motives to applaud losing while
somewhere in battle;
looking at Love or
excavating Love while hearts beat across rivers; this southern soul, this
northern wiccan, while death was sweeter those days.
I’ll
save face while exploring love for it was life by shadows:
to gesture at self to
adore but fall so wretched so blessed; by randomness but too intense where a
wolf frightened wilderness; tropic chaos while one has a hunch where it
overwhelms by such absurdity: for people don’t love like that, or never me,
where it appears by palaver—or too nocturne, or so disapproved, where something
feels sickened; such foible such insistence while our world is neat for
orderly; it speaks to features it applauds dying while it tickles something
that shouldn’t persist.
Most
people are reserved, until becoming devastated, where most women are asking if
he would make a good husband; the gale of dynasties those kneeling hearts while
searching through characteristics.
I have known love such
rich black & white craziness such aphasia love; to look by deepness to
become deepness while too off-balanced to sustain normality; to need like
oxygen to deplete like gasoline where skies descend close to shattering earth;
our first feat while deepened by tender velvet so cursed it feels delightful
such wingspan.
To
whisper at concrete or to relinquish abstracts so involved it hurts our tonsils.
To dance in silence to invert difficulties where such become prophecy; inmost
wild winds or fawning intentionally where this is great atmosphere—those harbinger
coffins those sweet detriments while so reserved or so neat where love must
meet requirements; those caskets afore us as they topple over letters, whereby,
they harass or attack or trespass against love; but ours is death by flames,
accursed such wings with feathers; to intoxicate lungs or to laugh out
depression so gathered it tills or so harvested it’s rotten, in a frenzy to
escape those damning mirrors!
