02-15-2017, 08:14 AM
Edit 1:
it was forbidden whispers, burning,
branding calligraphy against our skin—
fractured lullabies, (my gods, my love),
bittersweet dahlia crumbs
(as fodder for clipped pigeons)—
that will always mean something,
nothing.
it was sanctuaries—the ones enveloped by dirty sheets,
billowing curtains, housing a homicide of tangled (carved, battered) bodies.
fingers entwined, melting perfectly into evolved gaps
(the grandest of canyons, the blackest of voids)—
as though they were meant to hold each other
for forever and ever;
for a binary infinity.
it was fingertips grazing, tickling (trickling and weeping like hail),
circling and hunting within oxidized sub-saharan plains.
we go up and then we come down,
(a spinning carousel: first there was a seed and then came the apple)
we flew up (breaching the heavens) and then we dived down
(christened with a gold medal from a formaldehyde babel).
it was an expedition of sacred (blasphemous), archaic territories.
hesitance (my gods, my love, please stop us);
knowing—loving—how desecrating we are:
prostitutes of the forlorn, existentially jaded and biblically stoned.
hesitance (strung out on tomorrow);
knowing—enchanted with a lust, a greed, for passion;
two selfish, callous ships following erotic sirens (i love you, i love you,
my gods, do i love you).
it was your secured limb snaked around my carcass,
fastened, tightening, choking like bondage (my gods, i can't breathe)
bequeathing my soul to never falter—
us, stumbling (stuttering), drunk actors.
prescribed the only medical regimen for anxious fools.
it was this; this staged homily, preaching for alleged tomorrows,
the genesis of seven days (a continuous stream of light
in a consuming tunnel of onyx)—
this could be our ubiquitous infinity.
it was cleft lips, cracked and dried by the sands of time,
trespassing—barely there—
skimming with such unceremonious speed.
it was lazy moments of reluctance:
devouring, savoring honeysuckle, bliss-filled moans—
drowning in the swollen nectar of the insatiable.
us: pharaohs, gods of dimensions and creations,
parsimoniously indulging, haughtily hoarding all of life's wine.
it was shared laughter: (effervescent, evanescent);
radiating, echoing within the permeable chambers
of our labyrinth: this was for me and for you;
it is for me; and it is for you.
it was blushing secrets: (no, please, we shouldn't)
shared with (bleak) opalescent willingness.
thrusting desires to the beat of our fibrillating hearts.
us: the fountainhead of evolution,
gilded parents, burying a multitude of children;
tombstones sculpted with the name of "shame."
it was finally unleashed—gates of heated passion ruptured open.
saccharine euphoria oozing as though from a sun-ripened peach
it was perfection, beautiful, and it was fervently revered;
it was stigmatized with the premonition of heart-rendering ischemia;
hog-tied down (my love, we must get back up) and unhinging our demineralized bones
from their homely sockets.
it was love.
it was over.
it was forbidden whispers, burning,
branding calligraphy against our skin—
fractured lullabies, (my gods, my love),
bittersweet dahlia crumbs
(as fodder for clipped pigeons)—
that will always mean something,
nothing.
it was sanctuaries—the ones enveloped by dirty sheets,
billowing curtains, housing a homicide of tangled (carved, battered) bodies.
fingers entwined, melting perfectly into evolved gaps
(the grandest of canyons, the blackest of voids)—
as though they were meant to hold each other
for forever and ever;
for a binary infinity.
it was fingertips grazing, tickling (trickling and weeping like hail),
circling and hunting within oxidized sub-saharan plains.
we go up and then we come down,
(a spinning carousel: first there was a seed and then came the apple)
we flew up (breaching the heavens) and then we dived down
(christened with a gold medal from a formaldehyde babel).
it was an expedition of sacred (blasphemous), archaic territories.
hesitance (my gods, my love, please stop us);
knowing—loving—how desecrating we are:
prostitutes of the forlorn, existentially jaded and biblically stoned.
hesitance (strung out on tomorrow);
knowing—enchanted with a lust, a greed, for passion;
two selfish, callous ships following erotic sirens (i love you, i love you,
my gods, do i love you).
it was your secured limb snaked around my carcass,
fastened, tightening, choking like bondage (my gods, i can't breathe)
bequeathing my soul to never falter—
us, stumbling (stuttering), drunk actors.
prescribed the only medical regimen for anxious fools.
it was this; this staged homily, preaching for alleged tomorrows,
the genesis of seven days (a continuous stream of light
in a consuming tunnel of onyx)—
this could be our ubiquitous infinity.
it was cleft lips, cracked and dried by the sands of time,
trespassing—barely there—
skimming with such unceremonious speed.
it was lazy moments of reluctance:
devouring, savoring honeysuckle, bliss-filled moans—
drowning in the swollen nectar of the insatiable.
us: pharaohs, gods of dimensions and creations,
parsimoniously indulging, haughtily hoarding all of life's wine.
it was shared laughter: (effervescent, evanescent);
radiating, echoing within the permeable chambers
of our labyrinth: this was for me and for you;
it is for me; and it is for you.
it was blushing secrets: (no, please, we shouldn't)
shared with (bleak) opalescent willingness.
thrusting desires to the beat of our fibrillating hearts.
us: the fountainhead of evolution,
gilded parents, burying a multitude of children;
tombstones sculpted with the name of "shame."
it was finally unleashed—gates of heated passion ruptured open.
saccharine euphoria oozing as though from a sun-ripened peach
it was perfection, beautiful, and it was fervently revered;
it was stigmatized with the premonition of heart-rendering ischemia;
hog-tied down (my love, we must get back up) and unhinging our demineralized bones
from their homely sockets.
it was love.
it was over.