Oh poetry, I’ve separated Heaven and earth, in one thought.
Mysticism itself, no-need to be a institutionalization, for
I own my body as my soul becomes one. The ones in the
Shadows of dropped curtains, shape everything over this
earth as they rest in the betweens, some call it boid as
the catholics call it ‘purtogray.’ For me it is only a place
where the mind can enlightened. Awakened illuminati.

Mist becomes my eyes as I see you no longer
Pronged with the tounge which once  spoke sweet nothings to my light which vaguely glistens in its kingdom
My Niagara no longer falls but instead freshets, causing damage to all things which  stand  in its path,  smiting   the unyeilding
You became my opioid, your kiss was   my aortic
Your chest was my boid and your feelings became  metaphoric,  saying

Your peace is my blanket
Your body is my home
Between your thighs I rise
Connected become our eyes as I ****** my love into the abyss
Now I leave , like I never came
I am not a peasant in eden
With you I leave no trace, for I lied  because I knew you would believe them
Intended to bring change to your heart like a depository but my contributions were not of goodness
With your mind I was fruitful and multiplied, you thought you were befitting, as I occlude your shade, know that I was and am flitting...away