Thursday, December 9, 2010

Fourteeners: Howl, Honey, Howl

There's no way I could forsake the hair that grows on my face.
In weather like this I hold nature, firm in my embrace.
Always, I tend to get tangled in all that is wild.
Serious fervor overtakes me, beauty beguiled.

Beckoned by her warmth she lures me into a state of dream.
Nightmares imminently arise; her cold, not shown, now seen.
Bursts of cold air quickly forgotten with a cool smile.
Sun-soaked cheeks reveal starry teeth, with a moon-fueled style.

Night and day differences to which, you cannot set a clock.
Such polarity, such dedication, observers mock.
Always in the present, jovial, our life is a gas.
Not looking forward or back, never heeding what has passed.

It is our nature, eternally, it is our being.
Bittersweet it tastes, complacent dumb love, there's no fleeing.

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