Wordless soundless heartache.

The twilight and everything . . . my fingers transformed by your scent's annihilation. Forgiveness on
the page, luxor, combat, parfum, and a cointreau brunette astounding delight, echoes in the green room,
and a delicate surmise, and the end of thought, kabbalah, god, and immortal coils of ether penned into
the digital beats, of my hard heart, and letters published of yore, tender tales of evelyn to diana, or me
to you, or no one, to no one.

Wishing fancy laces into the quiet evening, a quiet automotive bleating requirement, and the neon
laugh where you captured me in extremity, and your bright face, giddy as a ghost, in the glass partition,
fleeting, with laughter, as though my love a great joke. A riddle, a koan, a tickling paradox, a
transmutable nothingness, which I hand over to you, with my mind as blank as the smoggy sky, and my
joy sickening as whippets. The suffocating nature of the blasé tiptoe through the uncertain perfection
of your grace . . . and a proxy heard my alien request, and comes to see me in the emptiness of this
hour, hour upon hour of my love sentence for you, quickening my futile steps towards survival,
existence, motivating me into the hurdles, face long, nose in the grass, dreaming of you, and the heart
sick of proxies, and the emptier isolation cell.
You should find yourself a nice boy and stop chasing the phantasm, it was said, it was said. But never,
it was sickly sweet in the uncertain triumph of your return. And the quiet way, raleigh, you sat at
courtly attention, and so pinned and penned, I felt to conjure a better glance for you, the glance that
sent my heart into my throat, demanded a silly nothingness, now I off to chase you like a buzzing bee
around the thickets. And nothing more profound than a word from you. Lover, love me in your frosty
way, tender child, death derivative, moment anew, sing into the clouds, and let me give myself towards
you, and let me fall like a dropped ball into the void, your voice echoing through my empty head, and
every scent of you biologically altering my chemistry, restoring my good will, bruderkin, sorry I was
creepy, sorry I got carried away, carried into your polite laughter, carried sickly away into the night and
the cave where the minutes slide by like literal digital subtitled manumissions.

Another with his perfect food, stood clearly composed into my figure's magnetism, as years of sloth
pay off in the archetypal air, and I would not look at him, his perfect skin, reminding me of you, but not
you.

I will. I will say to you one day, how sorry I am we are too young, and whimsy won't strike you, the
way it struck me blind with your beauty, idee fixe ever hovering, like limpid prose, sweet with the curl
of our newfound wordlessness. It won't ever be too late in the heart of me for you, as I masquerade
down the lonely street, pretending to be affected by any but you, accepting crumbs from the cosmos, in
your honor, outsourced at your beginning, but to your glory, lest I die of a broken heart, my guilt,
shaming me to a new way to prove my certain forever, for you I would again, die completely of your
disease, and nausea thick in my evening's anguish for your sight.

The clinical derivatives of cynical robots, language as heavy as a church organ, doomed with
irrelevance, and hungers, and dry august air divesting sentiment. Opined, and castrated, lucky and
sickened. And your tender toes fleeting through my days and dreams so frequently, and your lips the
only I desire, and the quiet way you melt through refusals, and every pretty flower I would to you,
openly require, love on the lam, love like tomatoes, plentiful, absurd, in everything, in every way, ripe
with pungent juices, in the blue light, appetite nigh, and the secrets which are not secrets, that keep you
hidden in ulterior climbs.

You are my only dream, only song, my headache quickens this sly hunger for you, tears meeted out
with a steady drip, slow in the backwards denial, acceptance of this brotherlove, impossibility.
Survival dear at stake, love once again, forbidden to the slaves, origins of sorrow song.