(Love to Kill)

Linked to you all by
love and light,
spread thin,
       (while most anticipate spread leg), but
MaBelle is only a voice.
Ten fingers,
(one for each ring-)
each promise to breathe and to sing,
                   to laugh and to lose,
holding out for my humble pie,
watchful eye,
        melodic muse,
           mis-interpreted mother.
(Expectant only in
eagerness to engorge the erudite apostle's
explanation of self.)
Heart song zings- strings
anchor ankle to ankle
the convert and the coveted.
Influence is enough of a (gift) for our
malevolent Moll, to
send the sands surging into the wind,
                to scatter, and
all the while
shading from the sacrificial sun.
Got love to kill.
(Thru-traffic keeps me still.)
Sing me to sleep, it's a
beautiful lie on a tragically vibrant day.
Apple slices sweeten the tongue that
whispers whistles in a dark alley.

(Crackerjack Surprise)

Fingers or fists-
Fits of finite fervent sanctity.
Future proof futility
Twists, tricks, triumphs!
Grainy, gritty
push
Comes
to
shove
Shoreline synchronated
satisfaction satiates
Crackerjack Surprise.
Simple solo Force
feel
fake
free
Glimmering forefront
Storefront solitude
Flame flicker inhalations
Inept exploration
Exempt exile


It's not the same now without your watchful eye. Slave to simplistic survival.  Spoiled determinatiion to sink under. Heavy breath heaving chest enigmatic arch. Examination of introversion and implied diversion. Rising suffocating heat hordes comfort complicating coorelated fates.


How can one eighty spin so fast and patterns dance like leaves in plaster and corners? Failure to withold hopes and forward gravitational flow.  Waiting for the sunrise I am bored searching for some connection that is a gift of some Christmas that will never arrive.


Fingers crossed and frozen breath as heartbeats pound away.