plague of love
a morbid infection this strange-plague of love an icy inflection a poisonous glove draws cold-fire fingers across a dark heart it conspires and lingers right from the start
(and in the belly of the sleeping python's lair doubts they slide brownly on dead leaves of sepia care)
it's a question of wavelength spanning the void a question of mind strength and how best to avoid the shape of the problem hawking low on taut wings that makes each of us beggars crouched in our silken tunnels not kings and when the golden paw purrs over the moss I'm left shivered and thigh-sore and falling across
the space into half-sleep on pale moody eyes the shade of pale sherry soul-piercing and lit by
a fragile chip of moon in a sky barred with gold destiny come soon these emotional tides I can't hold
level the red earth the strange islands stroked by cloud-shadows birthing the stoking of fears that might choke me
gather religiously all sons and daughters converging explicitly crumple introspective waters
burst from the depths on a white rose of foam on a white chain of moonlight roll and curl towards faith-flown
evaporate -- on a fine haze of heat feel the glaze -- of this fantasy dawning sparkle like -- a dust particle floating you're chancing the burn -- that'll strike without warning
and it just might leave you drifting (on down) to the resolute rocks (on down) and it just might leave you gifting the ashen-air of aftershock
and it's a question of wavelength spanning the void a question of mind-strength and how best to avoid the shape of the problem hawking low on taut wings that makes each of us beggars when you know that we'd rather be kings
it's a question of wavelength spanning the void a question of mindstrength and how best to avoid the shape of the problem.
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