SELF-CROSSING AND THE BOUNDLESS SECURITIES IN OBSCURITY
There has been a lot of love happening despite the occasional pressing of life’s bad buttons. It’s such a relief that after moons waned, we have already learned to manage changes and adjustments the way we write our names in our neon dreams. (She directs my direction that is hers to follow.) Being suspended in this kind of animation is the understatement of instant bliss—the very way a firecracker dances on the pavement; dance, dance, dance, then bye, bye, bye and everyone’s happy. Happy? That’s her face to my touch, my skin against hers, the plans for a son, the palms of marriage joining us together. Love has never been expressed in such soft lips and broken teeth. And I can’t help but crave for one more kiss! (She kisses my kiss that is hers to live/die for.) Because it’s wrong to be sure this early—what? 10am of love and a few sinful doves, I’m crossing myself over and over again to check everything else. She is the right one and so I write.
Yes, I write. Have you?
Being suspended in this kind of animation is the understatement of instant bliss—the very way a blink is made and nothing sees it but the eyes of absence. It’s such a relief that after moons waned, we have already learned to manage changes and adjustments the way we kill time in a mall large as the uncertainty we have forgotten. Because it’s wrong to be sure this early—what? a newborn sun and pale white curtains, I’m crossing myself over and over again to check everything else. She is the right one and so I write. Love has never been expressed in such soft lips and broken teeth. That’s her face to my touch, my skin against hers, the plans for a son, the palms of marriage joining us together. Happy?
(She kisses my kiss that is hers to live/die for.)
(She directs my direction that is hers to follow.)
Because it’s wrong to be sure this early—what? lovely 10am of a newborn sun and pale white curtains, I’m crossing myself over and over again to check everything else. Love has never been expressed in such soft tease and hard-ons. (She directs my kiss to her direction.) Being suspended in this kind of animation is the understatement of instant bliss—the very way we retreat to the sheets for sacredness then sudden sunlight. She is the right one and so I write. That’s her face to my touch, my skin against hers, the plans for a son, the palms of marriage joining us together. There has been a lot of love happening despite the occasional pressing of life’s bad buttons. It’s such a relief that after ghosts chased, we have already learned to manage changes and adjustments the way we inscribe our names across the uncertainty, large as a mall, that we have trashed. And I can’t help but crave for one more kiss! (She kisses my kiss through all directions.)
Happy? As a firecracker dancing on the pavement?
She is the right one and so I write. Because it’s wrong to be sure this early, I’m crossing myself over and over again to check everything else. (She kisses my kiss that is hers to live/die for.) And I can’t help but crave for one more kiss! Love has never been expressed in such soft lips and broken teeth. That’s her face to my touch, my skin against hers, the plans for a son, the palms of marriage joining us together. Happy? Being suspended in this kind of animation is the understatement of instant bliss—the very way a firecracker dances on the pavement; dance, dance, dance, then bye, bye, bye and everyone’s happy. (She directs my direction that is hers to follow.) It’s such a relief that after moons waned, we have already learned to manage changes and adjustments the way we write our names in our neon dreams. There has been a lot of love happening despite the occasional pressing of life’s bad buttons.
Tell me, have you ever written? She is the right one and so I write.
(October 20, 2006)
