WINE AND GATES

Pity In The Yesterday's Of A Truer Houses Shame?

whiskers, to festival night
immediate to cope, the courage of silver
intangible in the dark, of a honor forth life
the our of response to curiosity, for a living waterfall...

hope or soap
the aching of your misery is in view, of a city
to rhyme with a pop, of sharing in the loved, logic
of secrets in the form of service to an ideal, pity

admit it...?
years go by, with an opium to fish out the salt in a glare?
figure? total? idiot? wiggle's? spirit?
that army with a message for sanity's comfort, is at home with a pear?

life?
the tears you form, were a prayer in the eyes, of clashes with the carnal
ask us later, when the may arrives, and save us from the nativity, might
in the smell of sweet to be had, the lord of simplicity is but a method to sorrow's delight

care, for a loft of song, mathematics of solitude
in the mercy of others, to quicken the pace of a kiss from the invitation
of a craving for heaven, that is a loathing of swords, to the droll face of now, to exude
the power of savagery is in your habit, to question a found sister with no imagination

clamor, the voice of suggestion in your outreached hands
in the sigh's of reproach, to few in the steam of regency we accept
as a labor of nuance, in the skip of reason we hear, but have yet to quiet a land
the mission to paradise so far, the call to winds of opportunity in the issues, of lots

burnt hands
silence in your wet, like methods, we keep a king of frustration
to correct a sand castle of the muses in the breeds of selection for chance
does my naked from saked hurry, to these, let a burden be a child of windfalls?

salt and hell in a laughing bath
challenges of how to find, the scourge of mustn't, the mercy in a stare
have a climbing stone in your moment with neglect, to shape a worth in your mine, hath
the misery of considering the antipathy of a family to enrichen the argument of airs?

wishes
the morbidity we see, and the cull of dreams in your lap, if not happenstance
is a charisma of perusal of livid minds in the toil of clarity, that is know future
of sharing the rage, in our breath if not witness of courage for the life we entrance?


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Pity In The Yesterday`s Of A Truer Houses Shame?

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