prognosis: passive preoccupation
adulation of vacuous aversion
careless cupid, cleaving cardiac
to the closet consecrated

courtship of wedded hemlock
feasting on desolate devotion
ceremonious shedding of sacred tears
laced with lone loss

she’s beige, belonging to the tailor-made census censured for centuries.
you know, those clones clinging to a clue and cozying up to epicurean corpses.
bellisima encore, her with the eclipsing ego like some ill-conceived freudian offspring.
woman of gospel – preaching gore, gossip, guile – isle of iconic illusion.

ancient aches in chains
contained in the howls and hyacinth
the breast of syntonic refrain

halcyon honey hews sentience
with peals painting elysian fields
saturated in nocturnal opalescence

eclipse echoes along cathedral aisles
cleansing heathens in fifth progression
anointment of epiphany reconciled

her marble features beckoned to be broken
seized by palms, sculpted to crack
jaded lips stained by cerise and bloodied causalities
parting in a feint fruition of compulsion
obsidian gaze, lidded regard of carnal inferno
tearing his pulse apart with egotistical teeth
bestowing the incorruptible mark of possession
upon his blindly bared throat

Infatuation took a hold of my hand,
And occupied the volume of my mind.
The gravitational pull, I couldn’t withstand,
So I succumbed to the strength of the bind.
Drowning in profound sentiment,
Engulfed in a captivating tide,
Basking in divine contentment,
Much more than a feeling when you're by my side.

So this is how it feels.
Heart pounding at the slightest glance of your face.
In your presence, my pulse at an unsteady pace.  
Reminded of you at all times in every place.

half empty, half full
cup runneth over.
campfire and lambs wool,
abounding moreover.
cloudy nights and coffee grind,
dominate my thoughts.
stargazing, mind-blazing
mid-afternoon plots.
flower picking, field wandering
wherever the wind may take us.
harmony humming and dream discussing,
off to faraway places.