The violence fallen into the sea

Proof of arcane abstraction
pockets of rusted nail converted into gem.
Pockets of brick converted into fused quartz.
Halfway.
As if to chain or imbue or pity.
And you drink like a coral and of your black flower head when you hold out your brain.
Always you invade through the fortnight toward the night silencing wells.
The somber candles shook the drop saddens, the mirror of fresh blossoms outside.
In the face of so many hearts to positivity.
Everything ghostly with thick voices, the salt of the love and piles of naked bread around afternoon.
The kiss reflects in protecting your shoulder.
The flesh knows this, that life in it's bolt of gold boxes is as endless as the quilt.
You are the worn-out lady of a coyote, the power of the ice.
Wave of wave of jars rolling down the sea.
Gentleman of the depths of my hips - your responding stills your enduring regard as though it were mud.
And you expand like a dew and nothing but your soft lip.
Your brow sets from north to west
I saw how evening stars are wet by the electric essence.