Dogma

we sleep like saints, be like saints
day and day in our by and byes
it gets old– me missing you, you not biting purposely

i pretty much only pertinently beseech myself now
only believe the ones that have little to do with me,
and a lot to do with you, substrates of you,
and all the particulars we are, refined as the twin souls we prune

people are synchronized storms some times
people are humid as vision quests in decline

am in a dizzy fashion, our anthems go hand in hand now,
we are into lowbrow love now,
keep-your-hand-under-my-sweater-kind-of-weather love now
never ought to never know without some how

i am truly bettered and bested by the taste of you, my muse,
my darling, my champion

and in my youth i have been living without reason
and in age, i found that i still struggle with the living
and amongst them, i have draped my shells so elegantly dumb
and dull, and devoid, and roaring like the apertus
I brook the wine that is your diety to me,
And the handsome nurse escorts me to triage,

triumph in testimonies and parishes, pertinent and perishing
comb through our mistakes, they valley on, bully on
as i crawl like a gharial-iguana ostinato on some remote marsh of my mistakes

carry me gently– i want to lie on your chest
so little succumb to me, let my love be less than succinct,
more than entreating, vitriol, septuple sufficient
i demand to be nothing short of all your holy grail
if all else fails, let me cherish your thumb on my mouth and die like in a faint
we’ll perfect the blandness of the missionary position so we can cross in unison
nothing matters more than how my lover feels, for in the deeds and nightmares, we are one

so be my night sky, so be my pacifier,
so never replace me with something lesser
always aim for the clouds– i will be there, i will pillory there
with the higher gods, naked and unraveling
and waiting, and waving, and wailing like a saint

(you who escorted me to my penance, thank you–
you have shown me the red ochre door of eyes do not always have to be that way–
i salute as i savor the scansion of you)

.
..

My pride has calmed down, okays me to come home,
Signals me to come alone.
But I don’t know where your home is any longer.
I will bleed my information of you from the bones.
I hope the smile you’re wearing without me
Is a smile worn as a false, I suppose.


 
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