androgyny and the shadow #7

in the anatomy of closure, and the politics of recollection, there is a pause. painful and severe. arrested in a phase of rhetoric. a love agency. a tragedy. a latitude of craving. a blurred dissolution of face, and smell, and love, and sex and nomenclature. wrapped and unrolled. unraveled and unfolded. you know, on the needle of your closure, it feels like a prick of supersaturation. in the conditionality of the balance, you will precipitate into a microcosm. or a macrocosm of an emotional debauchery. of un-love. of retreat. and of the immolation of your identical characters. your soul decor and your blood ambiance. you let it sit in a gentle treble. a weird tipping point, living and brewing in denial. may be he thinks? may be not. consider, again? what if? what if, what? what if things were different and we shared a glimpse? what if you didn't know what was wrong, what was incorrect, what was void to begin with? what if you told yourself over and over again. in pleas and remittances of your bloom currencies. of your natural behemoth. of your self-aggrandizing, self-hating? miscegenation of the ebony tides of your dead hues? you feel your tragedy. in your blood. in your pith. in the interiors of your tenderness. in the resolution of the strength tendrils, the curlicues of your dream innocence, the enchantment of illusions, wrap and fold the tragedy of your dreams. in a felling wisp. and feathers.

in the surrealism of craving, in the abstraction of your desires, there is no mind. there is no black, there is no coloration of your dispersive, cold, vulnerabilities. you are the voice of your pain logic. you understand, and you feel. giving up, holding down. a plunge into the deep red pit of imagery and art. begin with the closeness of the fond, the dear, the anxious. the originality of your biology, your nationality of your body language, the voice of your emotions, make you. do not repent, do not escape. do not color this disembodiment of who you are and what you see. of what you love and what you wish. of who you miss and why you cry. and why you lust and crave for life, the hands to hold. in songs untold. piece by piece, in mirth and bliss. and dreams and frills, of the cavernous. the blooded. the soulful man, the soulful gods, the soul-less man, the soul-less gods. the agnosticism of your make-believe. of your trust in faith, and faith in trust. do not lose, the hue of you, in twists and turns and cues and veils of what constructs the meat of i, the perpetrator, the mitigator of creation.