are niqabs are as much nearing
sunglasses,
as i was was posting a
postcard -
    the same as watching ****
online?
   the eyes are the windows into
a soul...
         what were ever bodies...
if the lost tract of timing,
    how frightening the woman's
take on fashioning a body,
in what is: easily fashionable,
and what becomes:
the supposedly: awaited for:
hunted for...
            the body in an awaited
attenborough,
what bore, what craft,
the last remaining artefact...
    the weeping man leaves no
man astounded by the moon -
the cat, remains intoxicated -
            and the remains...
      a sacrificial lamb of an invoked "loss" -
the kiss abiding:
a night alone in sight:
is what leaves the craft
the most: astounding!
          pale numbing skin
of pumpkin, and the lost letter
of a year, i grieve with,
to be: hunting the best kept forget!
at least i have my
    lost charm...
          and the most intact
     harmonies of a deadened intactness
of: a lastened que of charm...
      that moon, in milken hue
leaves me: suddenly
       anguish riddled,
by the hue...
                     i die the bachelor,
and reawaken as the
father, to the barren,
           lord of sleep;
kept i the barren, pumpkin king
of sworn deflowered fold;
i have seen death be swollen -
with greater routine of "escapism" -
that than pale lament pumpkin...
of love be said:
  the last be the lasting counted
made: the most impressioned
        first, minded, forgotten.