A Provenance (Terrain Re-Formed)

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Acerbic stenographers astringe notations sharply—

alleviating bite, by renovating the acrid testimonials carved

to mind—honing gently the slashing song—where whispers carve forth

trenchant pleas—pallbearers to the instigating insinuations, guardians of the purulence, rife, when upon mordant lips, the secreting fixations of, yet, another reverence to those that blindly guide their steps of rote, allowing the innuendos, their latent stand, to the government that we know, have known, a priori, perchance, breaking spine over cragged vales, built from self-sustained flowing depositions, aqueous but not in water, instead, in the substance known as blood,

Anted up to and for, the ever-growing populous, prepared in sacrifice, delivered for the ever eluding but finally found, pluperfect fertile plots needed, by and for the contrition and rebirth of this, the endearing soliloquy, as alone, a foundation for what is formed and of what will always be, alive within the compositions housed up inside all the entities deeply affected by this dream, this dream defined as love. 

Like the sepal, a parent must fall and leave

once their bud breaks free

She came at him, as if she were the xiphoid, thrashing

wildly, ready to pierce, through wood, flesh or steel

Where Zurvan’s voice is lauded high

and translations proper scintillate the prophecy,

then time and fate are thus realized, not as

the enemy of mortality, but as constructs, devoid

of the emotional absentia of non-particulate cohesions of deign

Of which path proves to find, Quegh in hand, brim to lip, flushing, funding remedies to one’s thirsting space

aftertaste, falsetto’s straining cry, wryly crinkle the abased breath, curtailing to prometaphase—in which, as to where, affectivity submits fruition unto, those echoic wrests and culls anesthetized aware within—self producing vials of relaxation, grifts the flesh of its willful mastery, tranquilizing away all of tensions anti-gifts, paving forward the pathways to a pastel future’s beautifying provenance

Like the epigraph—attached to the blankest page, the one that oft arrives first, before introductions or indices, illuminate what journey borrowed words will play again—meaning staggers upon a skeptics skin—ever eager to prove the story’s premise is as was foretold, if only to eradicate doubt from the perusal within the crevices painting the walls of the minds many precious folds of fate and time.