Fear
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“It is a common saying that when we focus on the past, we stop focusing on the future. To obsess over our past, is to obsess over fear, for even if what was in the past was pleasant, it is strange to everyone else. Even if it is not strange to the individual, it is
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I neglect truth, wherever it stands,Plead for difference, wherever it lands,And make myself whole, through indifference,I beg to be differed, in manhood and resplendence.For I am weak by your side,With eyes that drop to a fingerThat is your own,Gleaming with a ring. Wherever the world rotates,I am not there.Wherever kisses are offered,I am not shared,With
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Cling upon me,For your immediate comfort.You have wept with a shivering form,And eyes that obey all contention.A face that needs no bliss, as mineOr your own, for the coming deprivation. Disease me, your wounds of many fields.Kiss me, O woman of much gathered,Suffer not, when the world comes tumblingUpon our bosoms, so wide and heavy.We
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I fell beside thee,And formed for us, quilt made of romance.I love all that you are, of all eyes made to be orbs,For the future’s peering, into its watery distance.We sail in our fear,And quake beneath tears,Oh, how terrible are the stars under your eyes,You’ve made a bed for us both,A bed of love, made
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The trembling that thou exposes,In flesh that remains not calm,An empire of rubble lays at your feet,A certain sickness dwells in your heart. You have found beauty in places of loathing,You have wept before mirrors that showed oceans,You have laid brick where the rich dwell,You have made flame upon lands not scorched. And eyes once
Modern Romanticism 