Monday, June 8, 2020

Cabin In The Woods


I approach emptiness while facing fullness or fretting cessation. I have loved as akin to lilacs where petals fall. those mauve fingers those drafted eyes while I give so much credit. if to lose in order to locate such sweet-sounding silence; an orchid at an orchard as abused where mother was desperate. so soft a sign, so phantom a measure, while we die to escape—the blue sun those russet vines or a sun mahogany crescent. I have adored images or felt it could live while a problem affects the flesh. on borrowed currency or tragic traffic such fires flaming against ancients. the dissonance the danger the dragon. if but to adore some part where something cringes or salted by cinnamon eyes. such rusty cerise or aluminum frustration as a man angry so angry! something is deceptive while looking at humility where it’s vetted or surrendered. at love so indecently or so cured it aches while we die if but rightness. the ought in us those morals so strong while we pleasure in feeling like shame. garnet wine or looking at you while I never understood the essence that drives ambition. upon a dahlia or entertaining a geisha where she destroyed the shoji screen.
            I devastated in you. it was rose colored embarrassment. to hate so sleepy one finds his self. our chorus in moons our desert in sun at eclipses or walking a father’s ropes; the threads in sewing the music in sensuality our opened memoirs!
            Love was devout or Love was smart while a person must come to terms. if but to purchase a grey hound if but to sick him on Love while two so lost in travesty. the gusset in bowels the fury in gusts while a man is never his expectations.
            the spar that blocks us. the sky that ignores us. or the freezing that erupts life. so close to wild rivers, such a leopard our pains while an eagle watches determination. to adore body to praise sexuality or to need to overwhelm. the work in our souls the fever in our mania while Love was hypomanic. such power with weakness such fierce lions while death proffered a contract!

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...