bad

by
honestly, I think I lionized you on a pedestal too high;
loving it, you did it too to yourself, without any shield
of security, otherwise, how am I supposed to explain
the cause of yours getting in free-fall and putting me
in the position of wondering if it is wrong to stretch
my hand to help you, or if it's seriously bad to want to.

poetic audience

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ain't stopping

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by
an explicit saline councilor in the deepness of my eyes, sings prominently your song its treasured susurrations bent to my heart's pond, somewhere in the right ventricle a beauty orchestrated by lungs like a Scottish bagpipe sound made to oxygenate all senses
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by
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body blues...

by
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