Find the weaker harlot
to kiss her at the better spot.
Kill love to the lens,
the camera where the flashes sent
boring eyes on a swift highway, –
for miles spent on a cunning day.
One’s pocket is raining
what other lives are draining, –
when droplets cannot be picked up.
Kick up the rocks
to scar a throat, where words stop.
Games are with a second chance
as life can keep stopping
hearts for an easy death,
eyes can always stay hopping
to the next beauty.
Here is to love’s frozen glance –
to the neighboring blue,
when tears are old, blood is new
from births in the middle.
Take apart the hard
winter from ones in the cold.
I did not escape, staying between folds.
I never walked those pages,
as much as I read them.
Two aces burned to a single card,
with fog upon the ocean.
One reflection beneath a storm
while the world keeps floating.
Still-life, a kiss to re-enter the motion.
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