Three days of dancing, exhausted, dehydrated, headed into
ancestors; by catalyst to ghosts, by conflict inside, tears and tissues; angry
art, rising action, 12 hours of bathing. The felt triumph, by core climax, to
again into caves and portals, bleeding the treachery, and innocence was unreal.
Partial closure, as it chases, looking, just to destroy, if better to learn,
without notes to understand; like an epidural, to affect a whole body, too much
imagery to conceal. An interior dialogue on repeat between doctor and patient. The
denouement into swimming aches, so gorgeous outside, all one would passion; the
wedding metals, flowers in flame, sweat from dancing and dying young. Souls bloodshot,
upon clouds and weather, too many correct in this line of mess-ups. And the dog
pants, the cat watches, with tender care and anxieties.
