is a fringe benefit of love,
otherwise who cares
in the braiding of the
past...
too trite for words,
the future... too old for
memory of fondue dipping.
Pinch me in tweak,
I know I'm alive
in the featherbed of dooming,
I've learned to survive...
In so-so sewing
the seams of a trout
jump hither in rainbow,
a reeling of color
and flipping in frenzy...
Shout a silent scream
and all is forgotten,
spin to dizzied fizzing-
sits upon a spam of laughter.
The emoticon wears it's quell
in springing torture
of all is well...
drink deep draught
and despair in hell.
A clash of fisty-cuff
is still a lashing
of terror
in knuckled bleeding...
I saw the face of an unexpected
death, in clarity and clash of platter
I bid it...
go home ... all is well in sweep keeping.
The light has no bounds,
nor energy to sustain it.
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