Saturday, June 20, 2020

Bled Man Took A Breath


by inner-government or inner-catastrophe as a person disagrees with essence. two-headed spiders, or sublime caption, a voice trapped by a tarantula.     the armoire is broken the hangers are leaning while a beer would be nice: those fretted feelings into light monsters if uncaged such havoc; by a daughter in memory by a delivered sequence such silence out there.     as sought his self, profaning utopia where it was nice to believe.     I unroped emotion so inclined towards skies while a man needs to worship.     bluegrass highs or foggy glasses as souls filled with tacks; by grand paradox or suffused screams as a bit disconnected.     (I sense you as you ponder but know for identity!)
     upon a kadupul or in front of a screen at palatial walls—the dying of the savage the glory of the queen while it seems evident; to love you I must escape me where I wonder if such sacrifice is fulfilling.     licorice or sugar or anything or nothing.     by a mocking-human our dear songbird—how must it feel to be as most righteous: so isolated from scoundrels or too worthy for passion or so trapped in a self-built dungeon.     (those beats such un-vined lights by watts so filled so gutted to know pain, to fret forgiveness, while one might kill us—thrust into fires so danced or channeled as fleeing freedom. to sip milk or know boundaries with a niche for bondage—such raw water into firebrand-islands while painting underbrush our first cubicle our future desks if but something to effect frontal poses.)     I impugn an image I unwrite a feeling where watching might mean being watched; as greeted a door wide open a man clutching a fifth of Jack. or ladies laughing to ask a question: what is so damn amusing? indeed, so beloved so versed or too damn together.
     his investment. his curse. her ironed gown.     we needed Mary or desired Jezebel while panicking concerning our daughters. such reaching oxymorons such steep confliction where if giving a gift, we contemplate circumference.     so empyreal, so infernal, or such a business woman. if but so secure in a day for rest so afforded one last death; if a story told, if a bower in mind, so stressed or unfastened, to die like winning a winsome sacrifice a windfall for humanity.  [so gutted giggling with women or sold to darker lights. a conclave or inner chamber where reality is struck with bibles. my trespass my transgression my terrors! by rising abyss to feel a tree or to paint a cadenza; as music rages in guitars or something too violent with pain to get off of layaway; if to invoke a power to appeal to illness with much invested in a cure. old battleships or seaquake submarines with hell feeling like color; the root charmed but it was ever easy or it subdued for one to pleasure another; such reeds to brains such nails to palms while it means so much if kept neat. by an oracle or a dragon into something so soft if not painful. those advantages in youth as wealth submits to strength where a man is conning his insecurities. to imagine this woman as to look deeper while I become disenchanted. if to walk away, with a tear my gut while I spark to offend a lung. the majestic emptiness the infinite battle while soil would be a last rite.]     once so jejune once a jouster or once no thoughts but jazz. those free loses those freedom corners where deep disrespect was unleashed. by kindred gardens by dear detachment so unspent for Love: but a lovelight but lovelock pain or so determined to obtain media passion. so unfair so reprogrammed where it has to feel like the movies: our fantasies our outlets our verdant delusion!     such faithful lies such deep marks where courage was needed to rest so long. the cascading brilliance those tear-born gazes while one senses such determined warriors.     but one touch so fragile where skin would melt. by tragedy to cross roads while he devastated something I fixed, and then came back to reclaim something strong!     twilight whispers. hours at a sentence. or deep dark exaggeration. to exist as a runner to mention to friends, I’ve found what I’m jogging to: the deluxe skies or that true-to-death lover or after pure unreasonable invisibility.     so blessed to have met you. so cured to have escaped you. or so cursed as our aftermath.              

I’d Save The Reader Years

    The beat becomes sickness. A long crucible—a drilling ecstasy. I was losing focus, feeling forbidden, if to self, if to mirrors. So curs...