186.

As here, I wait for
you to drink me straight through to
your velvet soft touch.

185.

Your face is a dream.
Pressed down in its own ideal-
-ism sifted in-

-to a new type of
architecture and spent back
through this mapped distance.

184.

Another year spent
in dissipation, such joy
these lazy bones bring.

183.

Memory, the tool
through which knowledge forms its own
chance at making change.

182.

Your bigotry a
luxury comprised of hold-
-ing popular choice.

181.

The displacement of
normative, inherent feel-
-ings, rewinds oddly.

180.

Only in looking
beyond what your eyes see, can
true vision be found.