i looked down somewhere over europe and let down a rope with zeus on my side.
kypress was pointing her bony finger at the hole she'd make in turkey's belly. kithira could hear nothing else but the noise of laconia's engulfing war yell.
is she tartarean again today with her aphrodisiac the tarantella sway. in anagogical vision i am what i see.
in anaclitical remission there's nothing more to be. and i hit a wall with all i had. a start even with the first kiss
it ended in a scream of pain.
i broke every bone in the red fist. so i face it. she makes the world spin. she makes all of us somehow kin. and makes everything the same as it's always been. so i've let down my rope to reel anyone in. and uranus's scrotum's a totem pole in the middle of washington state. it tells the story of what went down in our house. it tells the story of our lust-driven, bearded, beautiful fate.