Monday, June 21, 2021

Will Cut Us In Halves

 

I need to voice on love, the mechanism bleeding, the future we must predict. those black pits in black penchants so pensive longing for a glance. water made burgundy those trees screaming or a squirrel asking for nuts. I like tarrying I adore bodies as we collide in aggression. an immortal, bled by a sink, our ritual going extreme.

I don’t need chaste but pure, in one sense, core honesty. I realize something as in its blankets, we often run a gambit. those rooms mean nothing, but they mean so much, while we count our heart-pieces. I made collar I made priest I became a whipping lash – some lie thought craving her intestines while begging for an angel.

I need euphoria but I need not euphoria, it’s a core contradiction. so torn apart as barely surviving, on edges or fringes as born to die. many have shattered all I believe as a soul lusting for clarity. it seemed so easy, they do it yearly, they never contemplate those fires.

many vicissitudes aside a magazine, fiending for some attraction. if to live with you, if to smell you, if to know when things are right; a savior in you a woman screaming a log out back. so hurt to know you, so realized in you, I side with you instead of looking for Ms. Perfect.

next to a freesia near a nemesia stands a small face. this is our child our wilderness our bodies collapsing in pain. many gates as walls, so intermit with anguish, sour pride. I see carpet grains I thumb the shag I smell footprints. a little tai chi, or more kung fu, seated face-to-face in an armchair. crying our disappointments, regulated to our hopes, with riches before us.

down a river up a stream close to darkness – a black moon a neat forgiveness, but much hasn’t changed.

pull me through. so shredded asunder. those rays must come from deliverance.

a glow a magnet such unreality making passion.

more rapping(s) more make-believe we hate when a person might see us.

or relishing eyes, hoping on a savior, while many are standing at the front door. a miracle in terrors, a fret is design, I must select as best in tortures.   

I’d Save The Reader Years

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