Thursday, April 1, 2021

Stitch Nightingale

 

I go deeper those laced cries such sentiments when I believe. to adore like friendship like living while we laughed until a tear fell. those mechanics I speak of, those Blues in danger, sitting like repeat. the bold moon a tender palm so unrelaxed it felt like living. such cosmos those brown crystals while piercing but still at love. no apologies no respect, I hope we make it back. a cavalier attitude a moody neediness as axioms splayed into orbit. a fool for sanction, a rhythm beating into Venus as accused of a heinous personality. I would die lately I would resurrect lately I have seen how we love each other. but a woman watches, she has hell to give, while rolled into heaven; a clamp a grip a bite! another tries, so strong as a soldier while shell-shocked. the case in Europe the valley in Spain those zinnias in front the house. while grass listened while pain was sweet where he stood waiting for his mystery. a cabinmate in dungeons a photo in bowels or eyes so glossy they speak romance. but never a fever as we cuddled or maybe at 3 a.m. our bodies giggling our tether like gold our silver upon two becoming steel. the universe as inharmonious while we fight for order. but Love is chaos as a prerequisite if but sucked so far in the freezer is bleeding. an uncouth monster or a man with a soul while ethics seemed appropriate.

            cyan lenses or Cadillac flame while we all watched on Sunset. thousands moving by, a woman fried, as slammed her tongue into my mouth. such a weakness such pain while we know where hell is at. so mindful so much gravel while names are written in asphalt. I need to try I need to pardon I need to fly. like music in mourning like Aretha on Respect like tales in a bind. the fable the moral the stable; where God came, as spoke a lecture, where I can’t battle the fury. Love was sultry such a miracle while a soul was manic. those that grimace or those playing kingship – it amazes how a woman danced!    

Grays as Wars

    I never quite capture it. I remain distracted. Years to silence. It would be psychological, to war a man’s brains. To talk badly to non-...