it
would crucify innocence while it yearned for affection or misunderstood its saxophone.
so much a puzzle aware of bars/scars or screams/dreams. those eyelets those aglets
such horrific solace—as filmed by self or a movie in motion where minds are
attracted to interior. the stoic fount those detours as once to meet while life
was impaired. if cherry toes or apricot fingers such strawberry jam; so demonically
pious, such spokesmen lunging/longing for the missile in passion. but a taste
or ecstasy as carved from insistence—those penalties as distressors or infused,
bleeding our night-tremors. so many ways as to assert awesomeness into silent
situation; by tales we listen, often by levity where souls need to be doves. if
but to untangle or unzip insomuch as Love seems too unreal: our minds creating
memories our perspectives challenged our souls respecting our mid-arrangement.
by snare or absence or life by freezer so cold as such creatures observing
habits. by vogue bodies too neat to be so unsteady—as wilder skies or a holy
essence such symmetry knitting its penalty. by pensive brooding at surrender a
wistful elegance after years of incredibility.
to fret comfort,
or a whisper felt erotic, where bodies claim each other. sore mizzling while
aches distract bolts if but keen or filtered while a woman tailored her
invisibility.
to war or grapple
with agonies if to release a part of self—the true quintessence at fierce
seconds while so there we mistreat for it must exist; those elements in humans
where it hurts to mention while no one knows her like fire: an unspent axiom or
rushing into feathers so glued together! our minds caught by you our hearts laden
with pressure we die as doves given to pity.
