when i observe this system

indirect tones
for gazes met
are tinder

and labored breaths
vanquish
all sinners

angered at
summer bones
betrothed to autumn

patterns swished
in teeth stained
with truth

if i could prove
this savory wraithing
wouldn't ruin

rhythm help me,
i'd be six feet under
and alathe like no matter
could survive,
swiveled neck
and darling sections
settling post-haste,
nectarine and catalyst
flattering the taste
of sweat and error,
daringly sparing
no measure
of being,
enrapt in satin
and asking not
what end we could meet
when the skeletons
clash

self, is
motion
possible
to outlast?