blow to pieces....
the song books are pouring music and blood.
the laser beams pierce the soul of love
in nerve with a bubble swinging like a cocoon.
one morning she sieves my flow
of sensuous burst in a mellow sensuality
they write lyrics of all dooms couched in
sweetening kisses otherwise
in a deathful parlour
known of poisonous ivy blooms.
the moons are crushed and made with a
starry shake...to make a gulp
of god's other kingdom or heaven.
the description is cornered
either to a bang or whimper.
the hollow epistemology is in a disguise
of a nectar but with taste of virtual reality
i lied deep in the abyss of her mind
where her heart's a cheat
'cause all my poesy of love
is butchered to a piece meal death!
Keatses and Byrons
and their wasteful ventures of
verbal love and mundane thirsts
war between lips for a kiss...
for a bodily lore of an imminent
blow to pieces ..Alas!