Infeste me my baby. She leaves my face howling in the wind of her hair. The torment she perpetrate in my soul. Insubordinate with her light her stargazing eyes into mine it all makes sense now...even in the dark she glades past the stars I'm seeing in the ceiling gown flopping to her dancer's sides wrapped in chains and fire. humming on 'Layed they on black beaches men and women bite my peaches...oh woman...woman...he's such a vision...man she's such an addiction'
And in the act of putting a new cigarette on her lip I feel like a kiss has been stolen from my mouth, my death kiss has been evanescent by her careless flippancy. Kiss me I whispered to myself. Burn me and hurt me. I'd place snowdrops between your toes four white little droplets cease to bring me peace and I lay my arms down for a sign marking my defeat for this disease called spring.
Nothing is medicine unless my baby feels me hands over my knees in the shade of a strange cold moon, golden seed in the sky her face beams with a ray harder than the celestial above us.
She: "come up with me"
But my kind had not a pair of wings to live in another life.
She: "I'll take you to the dark heavens just take my hand while you can"
"You said this is forever"
She: "Forever is a specimen of what a long time can be, a promise of ephemeral beauty...now I love you continually inevitably until the fates force my hands to rest flesh over bone over grounds and I'd continue to rest over you as I was once had...this is eternity for we live in multiverses again again again and perpetually to the dawn of a new sun to the death of a once beautiful apogee moon and we may carry on again give in under the orbs the stars the worlds who failed to survive at the collision of us; the first act of love. Death by love"
The yellow lights took over the horizon near pale orange forms of five spikes once of silver rings coloring their tips. Sublimation, she carrying heavy plumed cheeks nothing on her lips. Apart, waiting for me. There she is not escaping my affection, my baby have I ever told you i catched an irremediable malady loving you.
She: "Oh my baby have I ever told you you always died kissing me"
Undeed lovers are made to be infested by love.
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Field Notes ▪︎ Prose (2)
PoetryKillin' a few with a smile is what's called romanticism of war 🫀 Short texts about my mental affliction
