boo: so many weddings in supra-repose, usual things
like reinforced steel, unstructured, left to grind away.
the flat-screen memory not only for popcorn edifices.
then, see, patricia’s breasts hide the top of her shirt
& i do see what you are saying & i am a bantam-weight.
we were paper plane dreaming to fly ass-numb right
frozen in moment (i weaken to a fracture of lips, spill)
perfume expands time – in a bluesy organic setting:
yeah, organic (not inserting part two though). at a lack
of breath we point out special letters of the alphabet,
lofty chicks skirting coincidences – closer – closer –
playwrights up to fear & debauched grimaces wake
with the tangible smell of wet skin? oh that clutch
& messiness – a methodical climb to the basecamp…
wind is distance when living on fringes & you orange
out the frames of reference, no text to guide. still you’ll
wander with the draft, peruse the limbs of oak, squarely fail.
i imagine kissing your neck until much later on. i enjoy this
but a little. suits play fleeting cards; families miss the victims
of serial killers. we all drink. my lust & my three-letter and.
you’re digging in spurs – a straggling drunk going ‘avast!’