My Blood — My Bood
Curves that hold flesh in, harmony in between the cracks.
Gently your eyes look everywhere,
but no, everywhere looks into your eyes.
And beauty, nothing but beauty within perception of mind’s mind,
Is where deserts, oceans, arctic zones,
Any space knows what you are, what you bring.
Dinner table, forks, knives, fish and chips lost in the fury that brings you in;
My heart, my soul, my blood — my blood.