A SINGLE letter.–
May 3, 2011
To start a letter is like shaving the crust off of a heathen earth, adding dimension to a studded artscape; dwelling songs into a mantle heated in place. To start, to begin a welcome notion of affection may become a source of deviancy from speech, from tongue to drums of ears combined. Even still, I swathe a bleached pen on blackened paper; no not mascara, not possibly mascara. The cube I’m encompassed by supports a view of integrity of seduction into a button bound sky- holes and birds, circles and stones. Weed.S. fire bullets into my eyes- a vision I’ve blessed and forsaken. You are a peculiar creature, whose trust outweighs depression, who the reaction will be level deep, instead of foundation deep. Your love milks nourishment from heaven itself, Premium, Passionate, and presentable. Your thoughts go breeding fields into fears; a startled final production into the fertile excrement of reality. My words are rudimentary, blocks upon your spit and mounds of meritocracy; scoffed subconsciously, but emerge from a moment of conception; a moment to visualize- and freeze. There is no immediacy; vague claims of rage and justice in love, but acceptance defines the faults of many; who bury their eyes in magma laced trials; decicisively prefaced by a feud with no description. On the contrary, the plastic forks I shove down below this house, are hindered by the mirror you hold to my face. You are, a direct, subsidized, enabled,
INFECTION.
Lull _)_(_
August 6, 2010
Blasted berry vines drip frequently between your trips
Where thoughts become a backordered brunch.
I’ve built a rocket brimmed with skin
to teach your rights to fly…
electrocuted touch as thin;
layers bruised a compromise.
Bleached picket fenced teeth couldn’t blind my fright
Lemon dyes and candied strives speckle your guard…
your declaration.
Fogged and free, your windshield beads-
Despite the emerald gale.
I’ve paced your gallery of position,
Hours upon layers, optimum confusions.
Pieces chosen quite well as
Evidences of our love kneel ,
when fine red carpet feels of black.
On occasion, puddles interact our steps.
A hand swings round the cheese, while wine tricks liberties.
Don’t lull the mirror, rest in wake of it.
Your eyes are heavy in shadow, as mine are dimly lit
A splendid funeral;
Proceed, full force- as forty winks oblige
My thoughts are simmered solemn filled
Your slumber shall decide.
Tea _()
February 16, 2010
Forgive the efforts of the spout,
The flame forgave the truth your hand bestowed.
Plucked from causes, short of distance, fingers bloomed.
Systolic strings did suit you well, the sickness of disease.
A cure should come while ripened vines do weep, for lack of bright response.
Bared shoulders, from closets to linoleum, shout.
Each blanket sewn to cover the sound, commence.
They declare I untie doors with sound, with language,
With snaps of chilly faces flown beneath neon lamps
to fasten your eyes,
contain each nerve for verdict; land.
Emptiness becomes the beam of steam,
When tea should have been pleasant.
lightleakpoetry
