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Styles Sep 2016
Taught to never
judge a book by its cover
I rather savor each chapter
then reminisce about after
my eyes memorized by your lines
a craft at which you master
my lips reading your text
as my mind visualize
your body language
embodied by mine
the strength it symbolize
leaving us naturally inclined
for a pleasure that is divine
I can read the signs
imagery seducing my mind
Martin Narrod Apr 2014
Your colors are so heavy, how dare I, I cannot sleep. Years inundated under, through skin coils, marigold fields. Yellow crocuses, orange California poppies. Moors of cattle ranchers, yokes of oxen. Plasticine uber-confidence, silky white-skinned testubular thrice people harmonies. Blisses of contagion, contagious bliss. Wrists and incisors, tying down in a bedroom, waking up to live harps and choruses. You dance like you're so alive, but I'm so alive I can't dance. Or breathe. Or knead my fists of earthen wears, or sell my soul completely. I drove off a cliff last night, but the four foot fall ended neatly. The plateau authors my chance to sew my bright, beyond- my fortunes. But the hour before I fall asleep, seems to be the greatest torture.

— The End —