Secret worship in the eyelashes
Empty mirrors those eyes?
Or are they full of beauty and personal religion?
A heart that beats fast religion for the visual
Slow explosion
Glamour rain
Falls with the radiance of jewels
Upon the eyes
The satin of sparks
And I worship with **** breathing
A soft devotion like this can distance the heart
But one’s beauty is one’s happiness and excitement
An excitement competing with the world
A world where few things dazzle us
And inspire us to push our appetites into
The velvet arms of dawn
Or maybe that’s just the opinion of our
Worshipper of wet skies

It's funny how nowadays if we see someone we know,

We nod our head up.

And if we see someone we don't know,

We nod our head down.

But when we see ourselves in the mirror,

We don't know what to do.

Once Upon I, the warrior skeletal
the eternal darkness
descended
with cracked laughter echoing
serendipity exploding
and unfolding  erase(s)
the expanse of nightfall,
those connected before
redemption,
rustic austerity
peace
for she
dreaming forlorn
liberated
by the sword
sine qua non

To pursue an unnatural passion
more sacred to me than any other life lived
Is an adventure
Hung over the palace of desire like a dancer
Head thrown back
Like the slow flash of a jewel
Her limber body bent
Her waist hugged by voluptuous shadows
She almost dangles
Like *** the play of kittens clawing invisible velvet lovers
With one arm raised
Held within a hand of indifference to everything else
That which she imagines for herself and her beloved

Towards love my thoughts run high
But with regards to women
in seeking their embraces
through pursuit never I
No, my desires speed through the trees like cats
With one girl in mind
I stalk the idea
with feline and fierce appetite

Like a dark-blue angel I walk these streets asleep
Spilling water-thoughts for my sky-blue girlfriend
And with much ease splashing about a serious desire
To express the fluidity in my style of loving her

With her pale-white precious face of a place
Upon that space the moon introduced a sister-image
And in winter’s name with delicate snow-like fame
Dressed my lover’s hands in white cotton gloves