I damn near regrouped or died such a dungeon. polite nonchalance so intrigued but Love is passion. a man we see a danger we don’t hear at a life filled with sins. a ghetto kid a fool with liquor so abandoned to a damn mirror: it never speaks I hear it whispers I felt through the other side. so demonstrated such knees as bled a liquid prayer. too influenced too raw or too blessed to chill. a world with cherries a zone with hassles to wonder if it’s really different. but poverty chased us so impoverished at some church for victuals.
I remember you in blue trim with interests in young souls. a dead heart as resuscitated while leaving isn’t an option. so damn low so damn broken wondering what a woman sees. a similar fight a region fire we make holy look easy.
wholeness is shattered but ever the same as floating into another vestibule. the table is talking plates are cracking the sun is on hiatus.
what for patience a man waits or everything he believed is scattered; a fragment of money, a delivery last night, a mission to Vegas.
many jump squares like some television series where we might make it back.
forgive
me for seeing or laugh with me for fun at some atypical harmony. so cold at it.
it must be a problem at it. while most are subtracted by it. those days in play
those flames at parties the fields hold privacies. to disappear, looking at
walls, by chance to strike a lucky seven.
