Aside

Struggling to conceive a non-visual  God

In the nucleus of an eye, clouded, stained;

Battling to lie to the trauma of Life,

She makes love to a barely surviving

Fantasy of Death.

 

Pull out the plug now:

Let me breathe in another sphere,

Even if the breath be yet another sigh:

I insist, pull out the plug now!

 

My heart, over-fried in the oil of your affection,

Lit ablaze by an insatiable quest,

Feels such a mess!

I wonder, how and why it beats!

 

You know well, to teach a wanderer to stray.

What must belong nowhere, ought be on their way.

 

 

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