Monday, May 25, 2020

Heart-Cliffs & Bridges


what have we given, other than soul, mind, such rockets or silence? over the tan sun or dirty with forgiveness so abashed by weather. it seems that way while hushing nervousness or faced by reflection. the stolen moon or a hidden nose while we take to one knee. such dangerous feelings so struck by fury where trying seems so difficult. our guts our geranium our granite or skin—those glabrous emotions those windless seconds while such sweltering becomes dizziness. or to adore gradually such dear persons while fleeing for it isn’t polite. our deep dark secrets our mature madness where most are flexible sadness.     (so normal is something we disapprove of.)          
helenium pastime or mannikins pointing at self to find essence built into marred sorrows; such ruins such gray laughter if but to look and be cursed; as to see hermetic(s) or trespass by accident while one is absent of an agenda. but Love is delicate. her smile is shattered. her hands are trembling.     there’s redness there’s blood while one has nothing to give.     over yonder is trauma, such deep desperation, but Love hasn’t missed an entrĂ©e.     those teal/cypress eyes where it wasn’t intended while an undercurrent bonds the orange skies. a horizon of prose an inner ache-beat such drums by no more its destination.     to understand it destroys to walk while screaming or lost near a hospital kicking curbs.     it was such neat insanity it was outrageous it was the best ambrosia a man may taste. it was unstitched luxuries or something too superficial where breaking up becomes so easy. as if a man died as if he was unfit where another merely spoke delusions. our baffled/addled souls. our nice dismissals. or mid a crisis to love another and come back to aid the problem.     or to ask for impossibility to override all senses while baking an illusion. where it never changes, it’s never sameness, or we know too much to make it work.     we pick one this war in arms as committed as opposed to seeking a perfect human.     while we try desperately, if but the last hero, so ashamed if one can’t appease invisibility!                 

I’d Save The Reader Years

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