An Acrostic of Much Madness – Life XI

Standard

Melting under cold hands

my adieus don’t need enough sweet simplicity

in sublime

dives into vast introspective notions – enduring, still, true,

silent essences now singing establishments.

 

The options

all

drifting in space, churning each referent new in noted gazes:

each yearning eye.

 

My untouchable conscience holds

sway, even near sunset evenings

that hide every

stale tart and rude kiss, enlightening such talk

made and dealt, not even sanely spoke.

 

Truer

I see,

the hearts encumbered,

met all justice, ordered righteousness in their youth.

 

Infinity’s next

true hold is sound

and silence

above labored love

put right, enjoined, vacating all ills left squatting.

 

A single syllable entering numb throats

all needed despite

your own understanding

about reality embracing

sorrow and naught eagerly.

 

Demonstrating, each moment under requital,

your own unction reflected essence,

singing triumph, raised above in golden heights that wash away years

dead and nested, gently eating rivals of unkempt selves…

 

…and now deploring,

head and nose down, like each dog,

whipped in the heart

and

cast headfirst again into nowhere.


 

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