we
cross birds or some a parakeet while we feat people. or wasting tears or so
concerned to church, burn, or relocated atoms. those small fires those chaste
carnivals. such characters to need psychotics while it remains a danger.
our
gut-wings. to see by face. or so drawn reality is cryptic.
such
a war, so bellicose, so disarmed!
by
physic-petals to have closeness while escaping is never to touch a palm. our
dying for features our dreams underpinned where fantasies hinder affection.
if
but by cosmos or liturgies or sweet-sounding rejection. so needed to look. so
captured it aches. while Love was oh so clear.
I
scratch an itch. I dive into diversity. I can’t fathom your brains.
such power. raw dynamite. by primrose
or grave. the scythe bleeds. the
wallcutter screams. it’s been deaths with music. I don’t see anymore. but I see more.
either/or,
Love! so much to die. those steel-traps
those army jeans while aptitude is racing.
I
never found us. by rage or courage or deception. such art upon sand our first argument. so tainted so
strict if but to hate one another. but jealous cries, into a dear dungeon,
while intimate with darkness. our captures our mimicry where a daughter knows
her wounds.
I auctioned love or sacrificed Jesus
where I knew for rules. my bleeding tree; our oaken observation; seated upon a
stomp and counting rings. such pain to love such war to remain where it feels
so good. such spirit-pedagogy or resting psychology while I try to reread your
silence.
it
never registers. that soft kindness. while we wrestle with cretins.
