Lonely view, holding you.


(Stoned)

Black faces, and feet are mine. You live like dust with cloudy cold smoke, how did I walk on the weary winds of fever rivers. Cold purple glass, that stood between lips, dancing on razor blades, with lemon skates, flames of cold heat. All inside of me, there is no fear for my book of life, doesn’t include those writings. Pain is fucking me, my fist my feel. Please cut me by my side, in thunderous Brazilian rain forest. I hear echoing children made of stone, throwing fern at my feet, and glassy soil, to my eyes. They’re knocking, knocking. Crystalline knocks.

“Be mine, and kiss me in the rain”

I’m looking at her, drenched in rain…

“why would you….live by my side.”

She’s glowing white, whilst the blue rain, like wooden knives, splinter and break into her back, all over her shoulders, and body. Mushroom cloud love, we’re in trances. Rocking my body, all over me her hands, like river over stone, currently currents in my currents. Pink in smell, round in shape. My heart, my break, might make me notice that nobody, but you are by my side.

Many more moons I guess; if we’re this cold on Earth, when moves made to satellites, we freeze, no? I’ve lost you too many of times to cold, and heat. Not anymore love, no more. Shine that light on your stomach, it’s us, through that cold wind, our child in you. In us. I’ll walk like snow leopards unseen, for your habitual, and infectious orange love. Raindrop kisses, on my legend lips. I’m floating away from you now, so die me to kill myself off mountains of ever lasting life and light.

“I’m going!”

So now I’m running, and you’re chasing me. I’m not running on any constant sand beach, I’m running off the edge, into the green of light, and if you follow me you’ll truly sleep sound with me, without interruptions I promise! Now I’m commiserating with your brand of life, now I’m telling you to join, I’m trying to recruit you to my soul, you silly dandelion of woman. I’m loving you, all too much, so let me suffocate this reeling feeling of lightly lit reality.

“Yes”

“Good, let’s go”

Runnnnnnnnnnnnning tooooooowaaaarrrddsssss thhhheeee cliffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffff

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F

A

L

L

I

N

G

…we fell in love. Dead.

-Richí

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About Oil Underneath

I drink glasses of cold water.
This entry was posted in Poetry and tagged , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

One Response to Lonely view, holding you.

  1. Arrggghhhhhhhhhhhh, you make me want to cr/augh, something, excellent!!

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