Roads Of Rash

Turkish trenches on the shores of the Dead Sea.

Image via Wikipedia

 

This blemish that conceals
a concealed artefact
like blood that  conceals
plasma

integrity exists because debauchery
washes his hands
upon the same shores
and feels the same sands
toasts to the daylight moon
and night solar reflections

You compiled a few dictionaries for your heart
but detonation need connotations
to make himself seem less rash
your skin is injected
by a proboscis-laden latch
because you don’t see
sparkling sand
all that glitters can’t be gold
for light cannot function
in monopoly

the sands are kind
oh yes he is
to feed you delightful  fever
in a nice flask

the shores are endless
and so are mistakes
don’t let them be your sails
eternally
for mischief is worn easily

Roads of pebble and ocean
water and sand
blood and plasma
oh mortal dichotomies
mating forever
like fleshes of fruit
mixing with earth
like seeds mixing with air

let my skin be the sails
that flutters across
the ocean floors…

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