Fear a Quasimodo brilliance
saying no, you would love
please, and lock keys
question every look
overturn for phone numbers
each book - motion that is,
to some mistaken
mystic
garambulla graticule
To linger with us
each thorn of past,
from the fruit
we take and throw
into someone's river,
it is our weapon, bloody
with our words, hate and heat,
you can bloom under me - if not with me
Scream! In conception as if giving birth.
You would appear
but you would also want,
that much
to disappear -
as well,
pride and juiced from spine to mouth,
the kisses last, we sleep our dreams.
Thourn Whaul
25/09/06
