Am a pretentious one, darling, only tulle I wear
On top of my faulty flesh, kept
In these hillocks and valleys by creamy, smooth peel.
What, you could help me out? Am not cleft
Yet, honey, don’t bother to care.
I’ve got a leveller anyway, am carrying it on a fair
Breeze of dreams, is my valuable lurgy.
An elegiac, mesmerizing burden.
What do you mean, dear, am a bit obscure?
Confess to me now, are you a swindler
Or one of the few valiant ones?
If the latter, I might decide to switch to transparency.
You’re growing a sprig of awfully cruel probity?
Good then, I can knock you over.
Stark, décolleté and demystified.
It is a white lace antimacassar adorned with tear
Cried out of unadulterated hurt.
Was fluttering stuck on a bell’s steel
In a ruined campanile.
I climbed up there, clasped it, best choice ever made.
Don’t lose your patience now, sweetie, listen still,
The irresistible fact now follows.
Whenever I find myself on a sill
Of uncertainty or in a crucible of doubt,
It staggers me on the road
And blisters emerge in my throat.
Whenever I am about to discover a garnet
In a soul of human or another inspirited creature,
It raises me above terrains at night and
I only envisage precious radiance and soundness.
Where is it, you ask?
You better wonder what its impetus is now
That I am standing right beside you.
Is it hefty, is it impelling too?
Curious thing, my cute sin. No, only an echo in
Urges me to break you apart
And then fix you mingled with me,
As indeed you might be
The threatening hypodermic to settle me down.
Can it be, babe, that’s yours the blest crown
Anointed with my heavy pulse of hope and terror?
The photos’ source
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