Monday, August 30, 2010

What is words moor?

What is words moor?
An incipient con...
Surreal yet infertile.
Confausea despairend
writhing, deep discussing
disgusting confusion and
logic(k) unchecked.

The moment passes...

There was, a slow almost imperceivable shrinkage, walls; familiar relics accumulating dust and weight. Weight also manifesting in her little heart.
The days all had been leading here, to this point in time, of this she is certain.
To a pretty yet intricately chaotic shrine. A shrine that encapsulated her melancholic lethargy...
She sighs, swallows thickly. The moment passes.

I myself, aside myself...

Spreading of roots, vein-like
a bloody blossoming...
The exotic sort of sting she brings.
Complexity approaching pleasure.
Rinsing and wringing this heart.
I myself, aside myself
in this womb like self consciousness.

Seeded need...

The slightest greed growing in enveloping intensity,
the seeded need invested in the knowing of complexity.
Supposing a seeming abysmal singularity,
practices an escapism through inevitable polarity.

On the quiet...

On the quiet perhaps.
We could surreptitiously thrive
by a series of messages brief
and hastily filtered through
our idealised selves.
Cleansing and renewing
those versions of vows.
Forever faultlessly tender.

To my...

Moth of beautiful un-adorn
to my butterfly tart tattered palate...
Betwixt frilly and the fruity,
let us insects be...
Amongst the exotic inhabitants
in this curious cerebral hothouse.

into the new day...

Just view it bittersweet,
this delicious breaking.
Cracking of the egg
over dawn's horizon.
The skies experience
bleeding into the new day.