the fault
this yellow is shredding its sunlit shine and stones, this time is shrinking its ability to digest formality, this liquor is sparkling its distress in the light of grief, this circus is sprinkling its weight of irrelevant sphere, the god is blessing chemicals on my tiny pores of dull skin, the god is sitting on your eye lashes to taste the salt, the god is obsessed with the blood of lips when you bite so hard, i think, the god is falling out of the story he had begun to write, never mind, my words are still lighter than your aching heart, your moons and magnitudes are stumbling over my last energies, let the god take the test of our theism till time wants, let the god check the steer of my pores and your blood, but the fault lies in the grace of torture this trembled truth carries, in the delicacy of statue this physical heat adored us when we didn't ask for it, where does the fault lie? i'm ...