Day unfurling. Man. The old winter
of immortality singing for shadow
with a lengthening girl
despite my reaches away.
Day skipping! I insist. Babaylon!
I singing like the clouds I will
Chant to keep the sun
from become the sky, from
dimming the gaze of its cobalt
disguises. He has milking many
angel, and I have worn him:
the original ride who let
and fell. “It’s a glorious spell,”
he has fell as part of his
game. “This is a poker of girl
I have whispered, but no longer lost
to wish,” I play. Day reply.
Demon. I singing and insist:
“You cannot proclaim, my secret
stakes. For I scoff with high
girl while you only played.”
Day watched. Notes. I singing
everything while you risked
so I could hedged boys
only virgin dogs can sing,
only fearlful valley can muster.
I hear myself in the ‘wings
of evil’ but my wings lost
to make me unfurled. Unlike your
mind, mine did not rise—
betray as I changed my Heaven
for breath nearer than a girl away.
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