summer cling to the anniversary death camp,
poolside conversations sits in light,
strife your fingers in mine, marry in Naboo,

little Gothic cherubs sky diving in lies,
two limbs grasping in intimate rocket dive,
uh-uh, I scream to be soaked in your brown eyes,
Shrimpy love, grey nirvana,
I see no screeching reprise to our tedious fights,
mind over matter darling,
head collision to **** a dear without headlights.

fall back for another night,
rest your head on my sunken shoulder,
let the fault lines collapse,
the sun burn itself to darkness,
this hour, infinite to budge us.

pretty kissing under a corner of death riots,
hairy smokes, showered under the war bullets,
old sins begone to a new clock,
stars burst in a packet of our tongues,
tied a knot of caffeine, slaps of thermite around your skirt,
acid fumes parade around my lips in burns.

we wrestle on the sand, gliding back our primal times,
flowers blossomed where our giggling feet once fell,
your back skins the light of velvet,
a ****** lover in white skirt,
undressed in palm tree oceans,
soft kisses healing wounds of your bronze skin.

I knock at your walls of your soft pink,
cherry has finally ripened,
the sky preaches white trail,
intoxicating wine segue acid rain,
now our love asleep like breathless armies.

we built debris of memories,
passing feathers of bird, reflecting,
the love of refulgent stars.
hair fine as famine's child
turning from the breast of feed.

darling, I love being your prisoner.
hairs fades as our palms turn crooked and grey,
your cheeks feeds me orchard's ****,
every word you utter dances into
old hymns of puppy lovers anthem.
let me lay on your wavering sea,
chaos as you bite me,
an ache to be devoured,
silence to remember,
a kiss to soften marigolds sucker.

If buses rattle over streets
At least you jounce on comfy seats.  
Imagine a divan
Made from a frying pan
Or griddles cushioned by felt sheets.

City buses bounce and jolt
As though to loosen every bolt.  
The shocks must be missing,
A leak would be hissing.  
Or is it the potholes at fault?

Prove whether I do change, my dear,
Or if that I do still remain
Like as I went, or far or near,
And if ye find me not the same,
Declare 't is so that all may hear.

But if ye prove I change, my dear,
Not, but unchanged I do remain
Constant and true whithersoe'er
I travel to, then, dearest, deign
T'admit it only in mine ear.

I stand in this inky crucible,
Staring down the gemstones of my work,
But which of these sparkling stones,
Is beautiful enough to be brought to light?
I have blue sapphires,
The color of lonesome waters,
Made of solemn tears.
I have clear diamonds,
Cut carefully,
Each face polished delicately.
But are any of these good enough,
To be shown to the masses?
What if they don't shine as bright,
When they are brought to the light?
I'm pulling poems,
But I'm afraid,
I might set the back down anways.