can I handle the season of older,
took my~love, and took it down,
till the hymnodist laughed,
do not forget,
she shrieked,
old and gold are symmetrically synchronized,
synced, not sink!

what you want to think, is always,
never what you
true believe,
as long as you breathe,
a miner for hearts of love you are,
start in the capillaries, onto the arteries, and deep into the
pumping machine,
which calls out in indignation,
you human, are mine,
and as long as you mine,
for the cup that-is-not-illusory,
always and eternal, l think not,
for you have already tasted love's holy water,
leaving you, leaving you with an undying thirst,
for more,
the gold apogee on our elliptical trajectory,
where the she~sharing-oxygen once displaced
in a race
to be supplanted,
but that must be won,

when/where  the golden aura supplants
the necessities,
and the liquid gold will
replace, re-p-aces your almost now used up blood,
endlessly re~circulating,
subject to the  the critical cortical critique of
insufficient,
no más, for never enough,

gold and love,
like sync and swim
together  in time,
in rhyme,
how could you not know
this absolute
is a
scientific fact?

It's like a Ghost Town here,
there is nobody around,
not a peep, nor a squeak,
not nearly an audible sound.
I can hear my heart beating,
within my pulsating chest,
is the only sound I hear,
as i swiftly progress,
This just doesn't feel right,
In fact it's very errie,
how quiet, and still it is,
It does seems quite scary.
I got to get out of here,
not one individual is found,
as if they had all vanished,
evacuationing this Ghost Town!!!


B.R.
Date: 9/17/2025

when the triumvirate,
HBS
(heart, body, soul)
virates in unison's embrace,
with alarms,  belling belligerently:

kid, ya honestly think,
your old enough to be
young enough, to desire
the pain & heartbreak that
makes the agonies surrounding
the sounds of loving, yet bear
your temblors of infatuation?

have you lost perspective,
it was not so long ago
you forswore the risky
unrequited version of
chancing love, now glinting
hintings unhinging your
sense uncommonly
predictably,
and you walk a tightrope
on your fingers,
over waters of
disaster, and
   is a fall and broken bones,
an injury you can
no longer afford,
no lingering chronic condition
sustainable
for the kiddie giddiness
of trying one more time?

go to your nookery,
bring pillow, wine, rhyme
and senses to remind that
this drug you have perfected
and permitted to entertain your
bloodstream's coursing through
the map of your unities, and stay,
write, but dare not imbibe the
elixir that has too often anchored
your poor heart in the dredges
of the ocean bottom?

why look at you even now!

you have been corrupted by
loving rhymes
forgetting the
freedom of free
versing, and your
eyelids encrusted
with diamond dust,
and all you can see
is the
far away horizon of
possibility

gladdened are you by the late
drummer of summer's fading glory's beauty,

but heed your internals,
curse those infernals,
loving is for the deserving
and you are not!

here I am authorized
to remind the heart pain
you endured from losing,
had no cure, and the excesses
you attempted to distract
from the doctor's blunt assement,
that loving feeling.
that left you reeling
the doctor stated,
you, the unsaited,
you, of the physical pain
of that long lasting
heart breaking occlusion
insane, had no cure

suffer not any illusions
a life of heartbreak is
not sustainable,
nor a lifetime refundable,
fall in love often,
take it and its quick deteriorating
high,
but I see you grimace,
you way past the point,

nah, you want it all...
good luck with that....