Sunday, November 1, 2020

Poking At Worms

 

by random excellence by raging kisses such an avalanche as it flames; beauty in its candy or sugar so sour where richness might appear in an instance. more than his leap as accustomed to roughness to seize a soul captured by red lights. so groomed for you while we debate spoons but size is its addiction—those blades such a tussock as cursed since elementary. to give innocence as becoming bestial where we might feel too uncomfortable.

those diamond skills such cutting edge too much but she needs more; a man in his shelter as summonsed or gunning while it was but a venture. to sense something cathartic or a cave too splendid while a man gives more before it becomes gloss; in houses in huts at beaches; so splayed so much slumber wild at times a Cuban cigar.

too much or they wonder while she wasn’t priority.

abashed like skies or pierced like clouds such helium or gases. a face with hells a beauty with cells while excellence might exhaust jails. to die in fury to resurrect with angst while addicted to a fair few.

by consumption by rages so dear to one aflame as winning; sudden shock such noon fever where Sundays are meant to reevaluate—so sacred an art so cured a disaster while pent in a corner tears falling gently.

to ask concerning luxuries to adore concerning luxuries where many did it correctly.

facial baptism or fate in a straw where anything becomes feasible—those values those kleptic origamis where patience was disgraced; a man running as returning to simmer down banished for one more action.

too much to adore as it’s fleeting while Love adored being loved.    

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...