Last kisses turn buck shy, then grow suddenly fetid ferocious, then lapse into feeling free, what breaks the heart preserves it, too.

Tin can eyes and art made of string.

The archangel like a pumpkin is back in my bones like values and tools and jewels and a mule, hooves that gnaw at wood, its punishing and ridiculous and raven and mean.

And then the other of the other suddenly slips out from behind a cantankerous screen – unexpectedly, like a tenderfoot of sweetness, that gotta take once find and eat as its secret blessed treat.

Cause then – then the raven tenderness is gone, then its over, again. And thats all and thats all.

Thumblina via Camus

Fathom and phantom with it all now let it work her over like a drought has gotten grift of rain.

Let it rumble through. Extortion and familiarity and play and density and fall and fail. Survive worse for wear all over again.

Any time at all. Another swoop. Rabbit coop. There are so many different ways to express love.

Pungence and wary, slips up from underneath the devilry full of its own awareness too rattled to succeed.

And then, when absurd is consciousness as a face of death in struggle against time success becomes holy treason from extortion of lucid dimensions that gamble with contempt and race against thwart oblivion.

Farceur and love

A railroad prison, shoving coals, in cobble boots. In prison – with itself, with allowance to exist at all.

What got her fucked up, locked up, inside a density of smoke, along with a crazy wave logic.

Simpering bothersome ruthlessness.

And there, right there, a want, a terror for love, and its coitus periodicity set loose and gambling.

For that forever never sigh, with taunt deprecating deflection, and yet hopelessly devoured by its blissom fatalistic intensity.

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