A pass in which the matador keeps his feet and legs absolutely still while slowly swinging the open cape away from the charging bull
What is a poem but a maze of powerful words That only the poet can truly understand What is a poet but a man A pencil in his hand With every word he engraves upon her skin He is pulled further And further in Lost he is no more Left at the mercy of her soul Forever adrift in his words Her words Her
Please allow arability of friendship And hoop fully this acquiescence Can render an accord shared Via exchanging calumet peace pipe
Initially invoked qua Piercing, gouging, digging... from hooked aquilinity Upon awareness miss applying the squaw aridity Mine swallowing capacity as pins pricking
A voodoo likeness doll (of me), Though this claim could steeped In utter contrived artificiality Fusing flagrant faulty aromaticity Asininity admitting absent attentiveness
As ska walking a fine line Betwixt asexuality behooves Rectification allowing solution Wiccan agree
Upon linking assimilability, assignability, assiduity Implicating with asperity whore err roan Nee huss rubble word choice prompting asperity Inducing me to cast the first stone
Of apology, and self awareness Totally tubularly offer thyself as human sacrifice Redeeming conceding unalterable venal tone Role of squawking chief fowl ling at the end zone
Regarding, where associatively properly went Assumability, anonymity of the internet vent Ting modality adopting immunity, Viz virtual community tent
Revival meeting adumbrating atypicality, attainability Avoidance of audiological atrocity, sans atonality sent To ear rate, the autoimmunity authority, Authenticity, austerity, audacity, co rent
Ting availability, automaticity, accessibility Asper automobility to scale tenement, pent House, or pre faux ying bing avascularity, Avidity, avuncularity avers automatically tall lent
Aim to amble along xy feigning tubby With minimal audibility clark kent Information superhighway
Axiality grid via galavanting gent Can be activated swimmingly With less overt axe said dent.
Skin-to-skin, you press yourself against me and I want to pull you in; if you bite to break the epidermis and allow my cells to permiss, you could taste me, all sugared rust and stardust; disguised slow corrosive, toxic explosive. You're the tick-tick to my boom-boom; a Romeo and Juliet revamped for the new ages, with candy (kandi? ) and coke lines instead of bloodstains on the pages.
I don't love you in the slightest, no, at least not in the way you crave; that much is apparent in the way you behave. We're both two lost souls, sinking in a fish bowl, year-after-year. What have we found? Nothing sound. Resplendence in decadence, now we've become hedonistic heathens and have been pushed from the doorstep of heaven. A fall from grace and how do we get out of this place when we're both complacent with our undemanding mediocrity, but with mismatched minds yearning at near-terminal velocity? We have a conundrum and an unchecked addiction to contradictions. You want inside, but between the demons and the decay, there's no room to create a nest unless at best, a foundation of brittle bones could make you a fitting home, like nestling in an organic wicker basket made nightmarish and sicker with ash, decay, and liquor-filled fights, fists thrown and eyes that in the revealing light of the morn' still reflect the previous night's darkness.
