Jul 2013
One
Under the undeterred eyes of the sanguine, she offers him all her breath, a pale lily in a hackneyed October dress. He fills up all the space without question. For awhile, she considers coy eyes, or nothing at all. For a second, he considers her presence.
Two
The jolted stir comes on as a swell before real time, and occurs just after the establishment of a name, or a likeness, or pretty hands put to work, wiping crystallized adulation into her brow, and her repose was ragged and uncouth and far from her hands, but he would never know that.
Three
Fresh irritation spits at a target truly deserving the claw, charged under frivolity and tardiness, and enduring a verbal revenge at a collective likeness, revamping the smooth glass of his tenorly color into a crow’s call of little patience.
Four (before)
Forget the cold. Forget your pleas overseas. Take your hat, it’s cold tonight. Take a brunette, leave her in the dregs. Through to it, the music’s loud and the night has taken another's pretty hands. Covet the cloves and honey you smeared into your ashy fingers and pretend to give way, only slightly. Run into the fire, eyes closed.
(after)
Even if it was just for this moment’s settling. Even if it felt like the whole and final truth. Even with the valved smoke singinga round you and the crush of bodies folding you closer, and the moon shining directly behind your eyes, it is as if all you’ve ever known was the dark reverence layering her skin.
Five
Can you impale a dream? A dream may not be gripped, but it has a place of its own. A dream may nest in the ridges over time, and may arise as inexplicable color, but it will ravage the ventral cavity until hope crawls up and over her shoulders, masking the eyes to see something never there before. Can you spot-treat a want so fully self-invested in a recalled series of impassioned pseudo-happenings and fervent miscommunication? Can you **** off the interrogate latched onto each one of your senses? Are you divulged within each unlasting augmented beauty?
Six
He remembers moments when everything seems to slow down. He remembers how strange it is, to whisper over the grind of a herd. He talks of distillation, as you absorb all this, how in total fairness, in total want, you deserve it. It will intoxicate him, but he shall not let it. Only in circumstance is a cheap cup born by trembling maidenhands, unbound by hometown lovelies and swerving.
Under the undeterred eyes of the sanguine, she offers him all her breath, a pale lily in a hackneyed October dress. He fills up all the space without question. For awhile, she considers coy eyes, or nothing at all. For a second, he considers her presence.
Two
The jolted stir comes on as a swell before real time, and occurs just after the establishment of a name, or a likeness, or pretty hands put to work, wiping crystallized adulation into her brow, and her repose was ragged and uncouth and far from her hands, but he would never know that.
Three
Fresh irritation spits at a target truly deserving the claw, charged under frivolity and tardiness, and enduring a verbal revenge at a collective likeness, revamping the smooth glass of his tenorly color into a crow’s call of little patience.
Four (before)
Forget the cold. Forget your pleas overseas. Take your hat, it’s cold tonight. Take a brunette, leave her in the dregs. Through to it, the music’s loud and the night has taken another's pretty hands. Covet the cloves and honey you smeared into your ashy fingers and pretend to give way, only slightly. Run into the fire, eyes closed.
(after)
Even if it was just for this moment’s settling. Even if it felt like the whole and final truth. Even with the valved smoke singinga round you and the crush of bodies folding you closer, and the moon shining directly behind your eyes, it is as if all you’ve ever known was the dark reverence layering her skin.
Five
Can you impale a dream? A dream may not be gripped, but it has a place of its own. A dream may nest in the ridges over time, and may arise as inexplicable color, but it will ravage the ventral cavity until hope crawls up and over her shoulders, masking the eyes to see something never there before. Can you spot-treat a want so fully self-invested in a recalled series of impassioned pseudo-happenings and fervent miscommunication? Can you **** off the interrogate latched onto each one of your senses? Are you divulged within each unlasting augmented beauty?
Six
He remembers moments when everything seems to slow down. He remembers how strange it is, to whisper over the grind of a herd. He talks of distillation, as you absorb all this, how in total fairness, in total want, you deserve it. It will intoxicate him, but he shall not let it. Only in circumstance is a cheap cup born by trembling maidenhands, unbound by hometown lovelies and swerving.
