Only them, not me:
She was beautiful. He was intelligent.
And they make love and it illustrates the sweaty, meaty, stony images.
This time, I don’t want to be part of it.
The primal aspects, like co-ordinates
The vital components, like seeds
The livid bodies, like canvases
Somebody got to wake me up!
My burgeoning mind glowed with shame and the subsequent ascendency;
It were displayed and spattered like her beauty,
All naked and abused!
Somebody got to wake me up!
No.
I can’t think without me knowing about it.
No.
I can’t even imagine to feel like staying awake, in the haven.
No.
I ought not assume if it were all real.
It can't be real without my bodies:
Illustrations depicting her and some loose bones.
Somebody got to wake me up!
Look!
These sprouts.
My words carry me thus far, these far
And my imagination lingers within its beauty.
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