Month: September 2021

REVENGE

There is no amplitude in my call, and any paraphernalia gives no backup, for you remain as I call you, “Revenge,” solely a notion that comes as a title, conclusively framed, but as a belief to inquiry to lack of clarity, not encumbered, no singularity, only so much heat and want when I say “revenge,” a literal push to further my wetness. “My revenge fucker,” she thought —  transparent separation to consent, so easily enveloped by the pronouncement’s frequency and the corollary’s solitude in no symmetry. 

Revenge sleeps alone without blanket and waits for her, launched by no reasoned lassitude. Revenge rests without appraisal. She thought, “I cut him with my titling and I engross him in irregularities that only imply my exultant want.” “I fuck Revenge to wet me up scrupulously and he never questions the excitement of incorrectness and never would follow if I would posit that you, Mr. Revenge, breaks despair, permitting an expatriation formed as repose, carried by “get” and “have.”