Radiation Will Be The Judge To Which You Will Testify

Intangible Sensibility

The goddess of Platinum hides behind curtains
masking her desires from the court
enclosing her heart from all that watch, encasing it within her halls of plywood

Although underneath her cutaneous layers, there lies a soul that thirsts for more
a voice that begs for passion
try as she might to diminish its volume

Her feelings not soluble in lakes of savages
still she holds to the vial, walking every mile
waiting for her knight to come for the ravaging

It is so much my style, waiting for her rescue,
debating whether late-night restricted phone calls are her begging
to be saved, or to deprave another

It might have been wasted, to drink from rivers
passion stemming from the flow like the hoover dam
if i could just move her hand,damn
wishing I could go back to when it rained
transacting my will to go on for a will from the past
at times i don’t know who’s out classed out
seeing pictures clearly because I never drink enough to pass out
and still feeling is brash
her image seared in my brain, her whisper to abstain

faint mystery
tainted clause
maybe someone just knows more of her sainted flaws
and i would even put up blatant calls

Her hair still shining in the spring
silently opining, trying to decipher what shes designing
running through mental waves dominating waiting for the temple slave
no whining, but why would I fail at realization
sometimes people are pushed to the point of zeal and I’m rationed

No longer can I congeal in such fashion
using passion as a tart crutch, but she knows i can fashion a rolled finely like i was 3 parts dutch

one gaze from her takes away
drawbacks of gravity chaining all as slaves,
she grants inertia to passive knaves
and her class would amaze

orbitals remain wide
even if she wants to break pride
or lake glide

she could entice
anyone to train ride…

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