the air is tremble lucid in the esophagus of my blasphemous ghost.
so in love, my angels blush as they suicide.
my devils shine my darker thoughts and nip my shadow's heel
even in broad daylight, while I'm besotted and immune
to the vigorous lie at the heart of the world
knowing full well, half less the very truth of how deep she is
but never ceasing to swoon in the thunderous caress
of her absolute beauty... that conundrum
dislodged from the invisible
and using her
name

to create you.

out of thin air... the troubled flesh of your actual love
is more than the measure of your grief and by no means
a means to an end
that was as inevitable as the woman
and the sliver of time she occupied
to dissemble my preconceived notions
of out of the blue.-
and Lightning.

On the tip of my lung
my very next breath and the star shaped wreck
of my impending joy.... the blur of my luck -
so golden in the dark...
and all the cloying karma of a rainbow
smoking *****
with a completely blind god
to see through....

with your eyes.