techdiesel

so so krunk...



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BEATING HEART

We swore on the future/// there in deep neon darkness pulsed an all-encompassing passion/// the light of god, the beating heart./// The simplest bohemian rhapsody/// writing it down seems mundane/// in the twilight- the suns descent day becomes night/// far from the distance of today/// pure love/// our beings danced/// sycophants of youthful lust/// dull pain… throbbing possibilities/// an aloof attainable amorous presence/// confidence/// pleasure/// pride/// obsessive patterns/// new challenges, new adventures/// a vein of humanity which typifies mysticism and the cycle of life/// Of beautiful woman my lust and desire and energies flow/// vibrant repose—effervescence/// life is a regiment of musical exploration, intellectual acuity, athletic rigor, and social development/// This one woman has thrown off my course/// as I dream about her/// my world has begun to reshape itself around the mirror images of the intent to which my soul currently speaks. /// A state of love I may have never before noticed/// I masturbate in her vedic perfectness and each perfect metaphor shuddering/// —ideas caressing my skin/// —her poetry pulses through my insides/// vibrates to my surface in the spontaneous combustion of butterfly/// —a perfect taboo./// Sometimes I have to stop and pray./// I pray my love is true; yearnings scrape my chest turns the pit of my stomach /// my heart true to her is the star/// If it were not broken into the wide open/// —Exhaling smoky thunderclouds/// I get goose bumps/// This is only eyelash language/// about my girls attendance in my life/// the empty moon in her eyes/// this is me in this constant shifting flashy flesh dream/// hormonal tendencies caused this searching/// I searched for a candy coloured pixie with the beautiful face from my dreams/// The first moment I saw her/// I swore to discover her world/// I’ve always carried with me lofty ideals and a somewhat blind devotion/// Arrogance/// tranquility has never left me/// no help financial ruins and personal strife/// never has the purity of childhood deserted me/// you cannot take this from us— it is the music that belongs to all man’s souls/// an energy and vibration which exceeds the morning rush of good coffee/// the afternoon sugar fix, the evening glass of wine/// akin to the pulse of athletics or speed of driving/// a visceral multi-textured human kinesis/// how can this belong to me?/// Music, My Family, My Newspaper, My World…


(c) i.m.hall