Intrepid without wings
Rather sunken eyes
Though lashes shimmer
The dark circles beneath
The dark pasión of tango to two
To eyes to eyes
To trust the furies or insane
(Allure/à leur)
There is no call
To think
To posture principle
To think of reaping past agreements
All its worth
Hollow arrogancia
And follows a hollow soul
Incapable of grasping truth
Its open wings at the tip of nose
Folding folding either noose
Easy death to ride the whims
Of airs too dark to fold
Caressing brackish glass stems
In the bittersweet remnants
Of winters’ chapless coals
I want a child to save me
As all I see is darkness
That not a soul can see
And for this I fear the worst
Will to be is crucified to mystery
A farce to ruse crepuscular
The will to choose
Will to choose
There is no goodbye
Only (morrow/marrow)
And I believe in all the lonesome
Save for knowing what it is
To (except/accept) the cold
And in the blackest night
I feel I’ve lost my breath
Yet this only emotion to unfold
And what to fear?
Snakes make lies of everything
Intelligencia merely an overcoming of the soul
To mark endear
Merlot merlot I love the red so thick
Its material interior
Though late to dreaming
Sunshine speckled fountains ascend
Deep longing to nature in tabula
Less rasa technologie
The immaterial flame
We must reap the ashes
That the feminine ghosts of passions
Are struggling to see
With eyes begging not to hear
The truths that might deliver thee
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