EVIL behind our back as a reflection counting space and passion, a written prose so sad — it’s a sad world; when a man breaks a woman because he can — where a face full of owls glide the winds to touch your dry tongue.
Benediction and mermaid breasts consequences across your cross and face — to raise your hands with love for a word spoken in fitful nightmare dreams.
No newspaper on the front porch no milk bottles at 5 am today i expected suffering for only myself and my handwritten eyes oh, no one knew anything
but my criminal spirit and women who cried to the moon and drank the voice of blood and evil deeds of lust and flesh as frogs croaking and serving roots
nothing to lose and no begging her eyelids fluttered and floated to meet disunity and a single finger waving — BURST in the AIR and give hell to pay //obligations and death meet in the middle.
i was tipsy-topsy turvy thinking
like a dreamy breakin’ heart
if you every go; so like me lonely
–you like my jealously had a temper
and possess love –>like i hated you
be free it’s me without anger ; when it
gets down it gets deeply lonely — pink
frustration and low-granted trees-tree! No one will see it my
Way: it’s me with a high root and low canopy
so like me without the anger — fool…
a free wish of winds — allow the free
moments come forth –>…..no anger.
when it gets down it gets lonely
some kind’a lost; what a mantra my monster
what a ‘coming back’ to push back — so you see i am me without
Seeing all that anger once around me: makes me mad made me sad
and sadder until i broke into little Pieces of Me.
WHILE the Cherubim sing their deeply forlangen hymns
…Oh, how beautiful! Oh, how sensually sweet!
That i am racked brokenly as suffocating despair
fills my Thoughts! My Mind! Not for this first
time am i drunk with expectation: as a child i
drank the Living Light. A price unseen until a
price paid!
Let us break disharmony and seal a pact with All!
To re-create a promise.
IF the trees and green pasteurs
find you;
if as when we sat upon a spot
splashed by sunshine then; who
could taste the touch
of Love than most nevered
heard nor seen?
Then come toward me and reach out
we will talk about small things
relieving the Heart of it’s
burdens.
THE Smallest is a thing no name barely, just
echo memory. Just the same
Such a stain that still remains,
within my brain, the smallest thing;
fragmented memories.
of every THING i created with my
own Love__ i am a damned heart.
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