Puncturing flows of buttery colors, exposed in
Post and pre-nuptial showmanship. Function control,
Amusing instrumental, effusive ode to hold this angel to a centerpiece.
Basil, with cloves, of energy that exposed a masterful synergy,
A weeded rustled drone that tumbled a quiet depiction of the color blue on a petal,
Succulent. Moss grows on my archer’s boot, and a straw of grass clenched by my jawbones,
A flux of rusty trombones that exude music through its metal.
I’ve heard poetry spoken in crux, bolded by a bellowing, bolstering,
Underlined by a snake in the grass, it’s so mellow. Just hold me,
Boisterous, soaked in droves of this sorceress satin.
She spoke in a language obscurely molded in Spanish,
Her lips curved, Sagittarius furor. Sandals and codeworded for passion,
Prescription for cures and an ailment aimed with her astrologer’s arrow,
A hollow barrow, and a node I focused on with a ridiculously pure heart.
Fluent in affluency, forehead kiss, and bewitching allure,
Potion and magic, with an inflection of sultry enchantment.
I’ve met a beautiful queen that I spoke to in Latin,
Aztec rituals led to a madman’s mystical matchmaker,
With slurps of a spiritual flask, drank from a vase of snapdragon,
Curvy dress with cottony ripples slightly past bony knees,
Impervious to the dogma your thighs created. Your soul’s a speech,
Red in a loud voice, in a cabin with a fireplace, abrupt,
Where the fire grows irate every time your feminine tone erupts,
Sensuous, cold, the scent is insane. I could hear your perfume luring me with incendiary allure,
Had enough with the tempestuous situation.
Where an ice-cold gloved gauntlet haunts your lightly toned marked garments,
Misses maestro lust. Larva finds a crawlspace where it bugs my life’s oak carcass,
I tithed to our religious cult-like chemistry,
Where memories like centipedes held life in their arms,
So magnificent, mount me to a crucifix, slow,
And show me the coloration of the sounds that I used to know.
Portuguese picturesque beauty,
Whisking along with curly-haired brunette insouciance,
Where a degree of our separation detonated my inner vignette of Vesuvius…