359

I gained it so—
By Climbing slow—
By Catching at the Twigs that grow
Between the Bliss—and me—
It hung so high
As well the Sky
Attempt by Strategy—

I said I gained it—
This—was all—
Look, how I clutch it
Lest it fall—
And I a Pauper go—
Unfitted by an instant’s Grace
For the Contented—Beggar’s face
I wore—an hour ago—

Like a loosely fitted glove.
White with an embroidered rose.
You say you do, but I'm not quite sure you love.
The not knowing part, I guess is how it goes.
You stay on but not firm.
Enough to protect, but the warmth escapes in turn.

She stuffed up her bra, puckered her lips,
massaging the ache that came from her new hips.
Her stomach had been tucked, her ***** uplifted,
her calves replaced with something unfitted.
Hey eyebrows drawn on, her contacts unblinking,
"This is my new face", she thought without thinking.

My senses, all

completely deprived,

water surrounds me,

embracing my every curve



Serenity replaces all

of the residual tendrils

of unfitted rage,

and shying sanity



As my lungs

begin to shrivel

and my soul

fades to black



I'm sickly satisfied.

574

My first well Day—since many ill—
I asked to go abroad,
And take the Sunshine in my hands,
And see the things in Pod—

A ‘blossom just when I went in
To take my Chance with pain—
Uncertain if myself, or He,
Should prove the strongest One.

The Summer deepened, while we strove—
She put some flowers away—
And Redder cheeked Ones—in their stead—
A fond—illusive way—

To cheat Herself, it seemed she tried—
As if before a child
To fade—Tomorrow—Rainbows held
The Sepulchre, could hide.

She dealt a fashion to the Nut—
She tied the Hoods to Seeds—
She dropped bright scraps of Tint, about—
And left Brazilian Threads

On every shoulder that she met—
Then both her Hands of Haze
Put up—to hide her parting Grace
From our unfitted eyes.

My loss, by sickness—Was it Loss?
Or that Ethereal Gain
One earns by measuring the Grave—
Then—measuring the Sun—

Those ashes that makes wall ***** white painted
A candle which periled who borrow
that light of the night of mangier
When yesterday incinerates a tomorrow
Numb and I can't fight the fire with fire
A hundred times hotter than the sun
It ravages my skull, my soul's sins
Skin turns like a Blackened yero
which extends to all layers of the skin
O St. John may be it's not time for your festival
This Smokey place smells burnt funeral
houses that unfitted to gift for each
it made the eyes burn and watery
Isn't it about life or pressure cooker
for a new morn and a head with torn
Which full tank of misery and forlorn.

Can you dare to be anymore absurd
i wish to cry, but I had to laugh
what forced you to be so rough and tough
what made you be so huffed up?

I look at my smile, it is twisted
Frowned upon by onlookers, unfitted
Gruelsome fate, cruel some off late
Paraded, lamenting about the fate.