The sound of thy voice. The beginning of sins. In measure to perish, love was never sweeter. We changed through silence, the greater phantoms. With depth the plumb design; with angst the sum of feeling good. Thy scent; thy soul. To enter paradise, so cursed to live. It was a memory the pain of arts, the grace of hells—so dear the dungeon, the faces. Accursed with violets, tender purple rain, chosen to die. The grandest promise. I looked upon contour. I craved with anxiety. To search eyes, language betraying lusts. Such an escape—so trained, back to enthralled. Holy slavery, the tongue above all things, such a delicate, bereft heart. Just the key points—surrendering to personality, so indecent the pride, so enchanting the fey. Warm colors. Timely glances. To seduce with challenge. Staying. So late into night. Loving as it cures by its curse. A season for blurry eyes, water dripping, so emotional. Talk to us. Soul agendas. Bled with sunrise. The ontology of love, the cosmology of hurting. To need forever, trying to maintain the promise. I must in reasons. I desire in body. Flesh killing us. As reborn creatures. Afire in passion, aching in treasury, everyone watching us. The fields full of sugarcane. The sky laughing in agony. Those walls melting, sulfuric acid, to stop in mid orgasm. Trying to learn tables, multiplied in innocence, to become so sensual. In nature, wilder loses, doing as we please—safe in arms, to know havens. Such paradox, screaming by lungs, collapsing, head into pillows.
II
The pride of calling it love. The grave chasing. Mesmerized by seduction.
I’m close enough. You keep screaming. You need me closer, like face to bone, flesh to curse. I appear at times. You congratulate me. The rough roads. Surreal emptiness; teleological nothingness; life proving worthy of allegiance. The ink in their patterns—trying to make cognizance, too close to fully live, eggshells, souls made sensitive. You make it look easy. Terrible homes, adolescent chills, abused, nearly abandoned, trying hands at function, needing love’s arts. Saving by language, life as we asked.
