the incipient
has salvaged the insides of a
censorious pastiche, where moiety details the nightstand
of expectation and sudden camaraderie
simplifying the closure of starvation that “promethean”
is visual ‘orange zest’
a
honeysuckle caramelization where there are two
romantics buried with guilt, and a master chess player that
recalls to be a citrus therapy and every "Sunday paper" is filled
with oceanic opulence discussing religious iconography
and I visualize a yellow moon cactus
obscene changes in a grey prolific office;
an expostulate (rescind) but avoidance is in an empty
peach pit; an exploitation becoming a strange
admiration

- G

the vault of your sunshower
augurs
meticulously that the widow beside you
is reading "Les complaintes" by Laforgue
and then you effortlessely mention about the Perihelions
and estuaries,
with a clear sprout of conflagration
but don't forget that the following morning
you will need a warm cup of water with a piece of lime
to remind yourself about
ethical morals and fictional horizons

- G

there is a red sparrow  
tasting caramel pecans in the backyard while I lean
against the kitchen counter reminding myself
‘your so passionate about submissiveness and dominance'
(relevant volume of an alleged innumerable intact)
that it’s another morning with a warm cup of coffee
and by the time I arrive at the subway station, there is a man
sitting on a bench painting temptation with blue, reds and purples
whispering oblivion monsoons
and real affection;
yet there is a silence reverent to
a ballad of praise; conjuring all
of the autumn phases, but halfway through the night
I could discuss about clinical studies with the
bittersweet absence of an empty
entrance “debilitated by spring
roots"

- G

In the culvert the crucifixion is another
discipline,
a bureaucracy
that I no longer believe in faith or vertigo
but there will be droughts and
veneer parquet floors in deserted
homes
while the pressure of overcoming guilt
is a struggle on its own and
the fear of a parallel rupture
assorted with emotional trauma because i've already given a
closure for you to hold
onto

- G

the portmanteau has eloquence,
evocative imbrication that
iced espressos & Italian romances are rosary complexities of constricted wants
hushing the bipartisans;
that
I theorize poinsettia's
on a careened need of "fermented" relief
while my nervousness is suggesting you to pick up the suitcase
and believe every word spilling from my mouth
you used to intricate/ scythe
and the interior now contrasting in
a winter tangerine
containment, "alleviate pheromone" to inhale
another vision that wasn't even close
to believing


- G

there have been sureties
not been able to suffer from avoidance;
contiguity and octave that when our hands compose
they become
a cistern prognosis that are
visibly shut
in there own organs waiting for
an unborn character to synchronize to an
upset weakness, and a
faltered selfish flavor that jolts into
a superstition of someones apathetic
disposition - "he's only in your mind"

- G

the quotations are phases
from "maldaption and urgency" to carnal a glass of
pinot noir
that nothing is correspondent or vociferous; but I had reality
explaining this is not the way to live with 'detailed confusion'
I held onto a predilection
reddening dawn and a distinct revelry along side techniques and melancholics
mishearing about the london life,
meanwhile it's a different situtation at home, and I need
a dictionary to emphazie the
term psychological trauma, because
the mourning is yet
to arrive

- G

the chokecherries have indentified the intercontinental blues that
eyes have averted towards Cornelius
the Centurion
while in your study room
you've realized that "our godforsaken Titantic dreams were never rehearsed or disembarked but
they were countless overwhelming
excuses of cardinal
hotel bedroom visits and "advection"
from obscene
choices to orbit around old conditions "the inquiry of
a riddle extending its meaning"

- G

the cauterization has tangents of confessional conciliatory
and misnomer that "we are drawn together"
by a masonry honeycomb
where there are inacessible railways
in my "refrain with your summer rain"
that I'm comprehending the interference between
failures and a knowing glance
of when your shifting in bed demanding that
you touch a memory
documentation a year from now
even if the sun is melting onto a projection of apothecary
addiction

- G

the crystal faith you praise
is fractured with dysphoria
that two years from now you won't be able to distinguish my beauty
and we'll fall apart into
a open concept of bigger questions (hydroxide pause) and then my scenery
will be vivid and fluently spoken towards repeated
images and small - town secrets
of surprise but tomorrow isn't sunny,
the damage
has already begun

- G

you are unsure of the moment
of when you dreamed of cotton candy clouds and
God, asking for another chance to spiral
but you've been through lifetimes of "wonderful rehearsals of a blooming blackberry bush"
that its become revenant,
a persuasiveness of another trustful lilac that your life
will never been a desirable garden but you've found
a diagnosis to lose all the highway
sighs, "provoking the past and
present"

- G

the part one analysis has felt a
heavy globe "a sad blue tone of being salutary
when the mind
thinks nothing is reasonable"
because you've committed sins behind the butterflies wings
and when I die
part two will operate a revolutionized spring that
no one has ever seen, but
part three is drifting not listening, to your mother and father
yet you are locked without a well preserved
theraputical rose
that only rises when someone mentions to exfoliant her
soft skin  

- G

you've seen me face identities
that seem seductive,
that there was little time to retreat into an haunting
image,
but an urge for the past has came back
asking for
larger vows
that question every knock on an empty
room
"but winter is cold," and the warmth of the sun
is once again left me behind
a non ordinary
crisis

- G

the
secrets are happening over unpaved floors,
the summer goodbye, the lovers that were only fantasies in a leviathan envy -
that I pretended to be a melted oath
caught between thunder and rain,  but "I'm trying to get
myself together" because
I exist and you are a  
"outspoken
downtown whirlpool"
lost in the smoke from the hookah lounge next door,
being insightful about "our" butterfly effect
being better

- G

you haven't spoken two words since the
last time we met in our insincere clutch to our romantic allusion -
I was never able to murmur or scream a goodbye,
only a hurtling purpose to be dazed
that you still write to keep my muse
lingering in your night terrors, and
oh don't forget
the glass of wine on the stone cold counter,
we have both come far in our own lives
that development of
something new is such an inebriating piece
to hover
over

- G

the love in our palms preserving,
are colours of red, blue, and grey
the sea breeze soothing but distant
-
the summer in the present
praying
to flourish  honey so rich to wash away difficulty
-
slowly the heart is beating
the sky's
tell the truth
and your eyes
tell me something else

- G

endless drives,
the first station to the right,
I’m not the same person I was months ago.
Careless and naive.
I’m no longer stuck in limbo,
o r too miserable to speak
My inner soul no longer claustrophobic
I am the narrator, cheers to my youth
And my darkest hour.
Flash point

- G