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lord, I ask you—make him good for me,
give him courage; make him mine

and in the meantime, let me dream sweetly
of feverish summers, him and his eyes

please do not deepen my agonies,
do not blacken them

make my agonies of beauty,
silky and sunlit with peonies,
birds singing, my mother laughing

because how will I stand yet another
bad dream about him?

please do not deepen my agonies,
do not blacken them

if you will not give me him, give me beauty
spat out of your mouth, warmed by your hands
I shall love it as if it were a lover
taken from my journal
Killers
of men, women and children
animals, vegetation
and finally of ourselves
for nothing better to do
out of boredom (pain)
a second of fun

Lovers
pationate and yet tense
always ready to abruptly burst
into dreams of others and play
(and let ourselves be played like)
with our prey adoring the moment
more than eternity

Poets
romantics at heart
each keeping our own faith
in god in reason in nothingness
franticly chasing some long lost lives
trying to extract the secret to live
instead of living our time

and if nothing’s set and nothing’s proven
then what are we?
a cloud that longingly rains upon the earth

...and we’re gonna rain until the last drop
your kiss was sweet like honey
and as electric as open wires
now his lips
taste like toxins on my tongue
poisons with no spark

s.s
drown me in
the ease
that drips from your
pores
and becomes you
in your life, my infinite dreams live.
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