but i am tired of these crippled potions spilling with white lies (that carry such deliquesce), such clarity within the hold of this elysian glass of wine dipped into the pond of the hereafter, tired of these screaming magentas lamenting their sorrows that drown this polycystic dust— crying & ripping against the gabardine (of this opportunists) so condensed in this evaporated concoction (of milky fevers), taking hold of these burnt sienna shoulders colored — basking in this interracial grapefruit rhapsody, weaving with terror so magnanimous that there is no cure for these bruises that reside under my plum colored lips.
i am tired of this never ending duet, this heat that burns me like an ozone-less pure of mellowed out (and jaundiced) honeydew, & i am pleading to be set free from this cage that chains me with so foul a word but so sweet a melody of fallen damsels sheathed by the art of infidelity; & i do not wish to be coaxed by this greek siren who but me she claims with her colossal claws (& scaled arithmetics overflowing with alabaster choirs), & i do not want to kneel to the will of these witches so i will fight the errors that bathe me in the cologne of seductresses, & i will tear away all these stitches that conform to the chalybeate of this summer's spring rendezvous with these sakura blossoms because i am tired, i am tired, & it is time to stop this fatigue that soaks me in this cauldron bubbling with malevolence & colors so impure & so infertile that i may find my mind being drowned in the charcoal of fears for a millenium, it is time to tear & push this procrastination towards the depths of hell, where it will never be set free.
YOU ARE READING
an abstract limn
Poesía❝ but this time i will not be lifted from the realms of this catastrophe, this time i will be dipped into the honeyed lox of this saccharine thought; drowning in the depths of the wilted tulips that have not ever to sprout. look at these alstroemeri...
