Complexity of the Eyes

Abstruse as the drunk, sloshing open bottle along, is the look in your eye

Beating my life’s vessel ever faster with each stroke of your gaze along my soul

Ceaselessly cracking my crystalized cicatrix open like a cabalistic cypher

Docile I find myself under your penetration

Enlighten me

Flagellate this disaster against my mind

Give to me what’s yours—your hand, your heart—

Herald the torrents of that sea which your irises bar

I’ll yet know those waters from your lips

Jussive against justifying us though they be, neither

Knave nor noose withers me

Laparotomies are less convicted than the

Mnemonic of agony your speechless beauties are bestowing on me now.

Name the nadir, no, I’ll navigate the neap,

Oeuvre of my own hands

Pilfering all my focus,

Quiescent against your lack of breath, your

Resting breast, your

Shunned salt mines… barely.

Tell me…tell me.

Unabated, ferocious lion behind my eyes, coiled viper in my chest, bound to remain a

Vestigial venom in my veins if left vexed for much longer

Who…what withholds you from me?

Xeric am I from lack of your waters.

You want to tell me something, in our

Zeitgeist of intuition