July 17, 2017

his story, her story



I have heard you can lie a thousand times to God and not cry 
I wish sometimes I had those kinds of eyes, ones not easy to pry 
but therein lay the rub, human beings and their dub kingdoms with 
co-opted adopted principles to pauses, causes all filling tombs, sieves 

what have you got to give, Life and Love and the occasional rib 
do you dare yourself past myriad blowjob fantasies to gain a dib 
well the spawn rain explains much but only in loner, longer views 
we've need to bleed whilst in the drapery bones our souls do use 

(choral cattle chattel chatter 
splatter body fluid flew to it
stasis osmosis and a news cycle 
of constancy's redundancy and
charming chameleon futures)

we stand beneath 
frenzied fronds fray
reaching for the sky 
so we may 
catch the dates 
as they fall 
haphazardly 
free, oddly wobbled 
and sometimes 
seeming even purposed 
with wind at night 

EJR ©

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