Oceans of green were obscenely mean, I’ve seen. A dollar-store collar gave me a holler as I walked down the streets. A piece of meat, I retreat, never admit defeat. Did you beat your meat or taste the sweets?
Sweets, oh sing your show tunes, amongst the dunes, as I saw the tide, pulling me in the shallow. Black waters rise, for no tears I’ve cried, would ever fill my hollow. Black is not blue, merely a bruise, of a tired woman drowning. A black hole soul would always control the flights amid the fancy. Fancy a dance, I prance with a lance, into the heart of darkness. Hearkens a hardness, marblesque statutes of days so long behind us. When two were just one, under the sun, of immortal bliss ambrosia. Sail, I set, not sale I wept, for there’s no currency in the current.
When days are now two, I think of you, as someone else completely. I’d be remiss, if I didn’t stress, that our collision’s cosmic. When a smile can shatter the veneer of matter, and seismic shifts in to finite reality. Infinite the loop, as an eagle can swoop, and scoop up little weaklings. Weak and powerless unto the force of nature’s resplendent purpose. Purpose in prose or poetry’s throes, I thrust myself completely. What is the luck if you will get fucked before the day’s not over?