Tuesday, November 24, 2020

Social Welfare

 

we met early on prior to becoming jaded or turquoise in whishes bent on hopes. sure into wavelengths sudden into drifting sipping clear water. I hit a hut so accused so deep into brown crayon—those tales for a winner those fears in a psych while horror for Stephen King. such contemporaries as too close while terrified our dam might give; flushed by fury needing Medicaid as a clown performing its high-wire. so insulting so insolent too attractive to disagree; or dead silence while provoked to realize beauty is often ugly. but we met something steamy such curse in melanin; sure blackness or certain whiteness while lines are too blurry. fire pressed, hearts exploded, volts shot from mind to loins; we wrestled we clammed up we fell while loving its fall. such nectar so much forgiveness while culprits were calling; our ringing phones our soapy bodies our elastic our tightness our unbelievable forgiveness. a trickle of blood, teeth running into bone while something couldn’t change. we met while laughing we ached with fierceness we felt like doctors—of deed or action or anything business wouldn’t fathom. we lied in sin we cried for mud we wheezed by playfulness—our homes those phones while we had much to redeem. our music such bass where adoring was off limits. to bathe to start again to fret insatiable wilderness. to pull away while fighting to jog where detriment seemed by agreement. so dear in winter so cold during summer while our last trip was sure psychedelic—at a main mall by fall or bags where we barely noticed each other. we met in contradiction we unfurled in evening it was midmorning chasing our excuses. a soul facing theology or a mind becoming a doctor or such differing backgrounds. so soft into reality such feelings we harbor while one is accused of those pitfalls—those habits formed, those dreams deferred, those pens she yielded. if one thing or one feeling while needing a dear demand. if but to love us to rearrange gods for us if but Athena knew her fame. so rough on emotion so anti-dedication or reverence to an ideology—if breaking seems vicious!

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...