On my sheet of blankness I ranked this,
as my... highest form of addiction; my shyest warmth of conviction... for in the slightest norm of breath I gripe the nicest orb of LIFE shifting... where deep beneath the blue lines and parallel mercury margins,
I... slide the tip of my pen against an offense unbearably hard and... create a clutter of sufferance, amongst the cover of "Utterance." My stuttered intentions are mentioned
to be apprehensions - threats in another sense... I... watched Love forget what our wonders meant
and floss no regrets with that wonderment... but it was... sweet encumberment... to recollect all that I've underwent... the mindful sex and numbered days, your blind-folded sets, oh, what a blundered daze...
You are... underpraised,
amazement... just so... amazing. I was amazed in a maze
and... paraphrased in a day-fling... and that, that was the main thing - to maintain,
to name parts, to sustain,
to remain reasoned, to reclaim... a beat's heart... you see, you are...
the serrated arch, that... I grip like a mechanical pencil,
bleeding beautifully,
I imagine it's all sentimental... chasing words, erasing nerves...
the dark hearted silhouette, setting my mind to trace your curves... perfectly symmetrical... you most certainly intense the flow and...
the heavy mess that I scatter on every stress as I continue to express... with my words... on and on...
and it finally dawned on... me... that
beneath every urge there resides an unsighted bond that perception will forever and always fail to grasp... our ship was not sailed to last...
and... fast... as I... staggered the dagger of your intimacy slid... into me, see.. and I chose to ride w/the blade inside instead of releasing the blood of my misery and reverie watched... as... I shook in my gestures,
whenever your hooks made my head hurt... and my voice only shivers and quivers in speech because I'm simply and still am... struggling to reach… the point of reciting what your memo... reads...
with its swallowing hollowness.
I wallow just... enough to know that I'm only writing in your memory... and I.. I... can... never make up my... mind if whether or not I... I can... scrape up my rhymes… to arrive at that point... yeah, that... point...
of projected enunciation where your redundancy will be placed
in an instant-flux of misplacement... where you are here and I... I am here... and my, I will slide the tips of my pens like crimson shapes as those... lips of yours bend and render the blends of... surrender... they were tremors...
unshakable tremors... you were my favorite sweater...of anticipation... and I never went cold, even when warmth sold-out, I was sworn with no doubt... the... thought of you had my heart dancing in weaknesss, the moth of youth wondered its harp just romancing in recess, I was... speechless, couldn't speak less... and sleepless and you see this... this is what I write for... the wish for your kiss is the reason I write more.. I feel the heights of my nights soar... with your face stained on my preference and clutch the breaks of nothing... as you're forged into a reference... It's reverence... The all-eye-seeing-being is,
all I... I seem to bring - just to fall with deeper means, and be the cause that keeps your dreams, afloat... and singing of beauty... through me... and these lines, just to move me through these times... like...
sunrays breaking through the blue, politely removing lucid signs...
I am thinking of feeling and...
feeling the thoughts that I've... invested into your hardships... you see, the relationship I've sketched is that of an artist and an artist. | 
