The correct amount of infinite

Could that have possibly been us now forgotten most probably but then even now still in the frame ? of the photo perfect framed which now shows us in our naked grasping hands reached to each others beating pulsing is that enough Life for you ? forgetting that we were waiting to die even wanting to be somewhere else could that possibly have been us the subject of even a poem that might be lost in apocalypse or ice age global warming inconsiderate self destroyed people all over even on The earth seems to small or even too largessic era human stuck in skin but focussed right through each other and onwards to snatch the infinite wandering sprawly forms in of life from the god who is All tv chaos melts warm and sticky into the private messages I leave for my self per me ate all it could like a language taught to fish destined to be human like a language which spreads like viral marsh mellow to the soul but green lush lawn savannah spread world which melts the visual field to sea i am a bit attracted to shorter forms of writing or even music with its ideas stripped of word that could only ever leave one reachless but grasping at pause the cause of all will be revealed when it no longer matters very much if at all unending is the strength of it as liquid as the sea the magic of the Tragical can it other be is nothing short of Unmiracle from first we mouth our breath and yet beyond the pinnacle we only see what's left when dearest change of All begins and yet we call it theft when ever is discussed by children it is usually made to when for now cannot be grasped right now for ever leave well enough the lonely child alone made for ever is its grasp is all i composed a love poem but it was far too syrupy for academia i composed a clever quatraine but it lacked soul and elan for the Common readerer and so I wrote nothing and it was read by everyone All through remedies he thought were needed but really all could be repaired with a more liquid shiny focus of the saved forest preserved in amber of the national park of his last dream where no evidence based falls and no eucalypt greygreen aussie grasps the nettle on his palms like Sunday night sighs sad dreams amongst your creaking soul they hurt too much to tell He remonstrated with huge pink hands the size of Roman cloud which might have been expressive on another world if only he had something to express but bigness but know he did not so snored he clinging to thundersin her dream the EXAct same size of All he says he is writing the great australian novel but she says it is too late he says he is composing a significant neo post modern plu perfect late romantic piece of music but she says it is f a r too late he says he is going to bed she says that it is too early she says she is writing a poem he says why and but she says to express things that don't get said he says like what and she says like if you ask a question but don't use a question mark and therefore sometimes i think i am her without a question withall but then we look down from above on clouds when we fly see their complex whispy whorls and through a diaphon lightly exchange our own on planes we juggle other planes of updown but dvd is not long enough to catch all that is over our head when blood is your issue give generously but keep enough to oxygenate your soul & crimson your child then bleed freely as a tickled floodgate Sign placed above maternity ward the last syllable of recorded time was a bad take and so had to be re recorded but was it still then the last and what was that Shakespeare to always have the last word who would else Dare! the soul being something that is not really a thing needs not revealing or revering but expressing would be the thing fielded and returned over the stumps run out neat on the rocks with a twist of death yet without that ache that heats the heart to cracking point remembered one you cannot have back of which who bakes groaning night to mould your head in pain steel dreams crack sleeping drift on rocks of solid pain cannot be moved but must as All gravity end at every rainbow though its light is illusory thus is the World thus was her touch thus was his light thus was your blood infusible but yet it flows to an unexpected beat it must until its light unto infuse your night you will call it love that warmth of gush that keeps myhand on yours but our eyes won't meet which leaves to be said askance whats up what has stopped the flow that tied the bow that used to rhyme what has stopped the love that flowed or is it not instead of that the great world moves and has flung our souls out the holding hands the eyes spun out its just the thing for human doubt Why must forego and foreclose and foreplay or wait foreplayforego and foreclose or no foreplay fore go and foreclose but now i have it but fore too late g on e So clear Coherent moments are really clouds of the mind temporarily parted so that we slip and fall into deep clarity with nothing to hold our us fully reasonable implore request sanity so falling is all the mind can see or really be yet my son he said yesterday or will say that the Essentials have become totally unaffordable so we should buy the Luxuries and enjoy them but then we could always change what is essential in essence but that wouldn't really be a poem just clouds of the mind temporarily parted so that we slip and fall into deep clarity with nothing to hold our us fully reasonable implore request sanity so falling is all the mind can see totally unaffordable so we should buy the Luxuries and enjoy them but then we could always change what is essential in essence but that wouldn't really be a poem just clouds of the mind temporarily parted so that we slip and fall into deep clarity with nothing to hold our us fully reasonable implore request Unsanity so falling is all the mind can see when i tell you that i love you i will only believe that you believe it when you smile but don't please don't say thank you because that would choke the timbre of the chamber in my norwegian pine smokey flameless heart reserved fir reciprocity without which the whole thing just goes out or else explodes like milky stars creating the firmament they seek or else the kids on speedy chrome raced through a whole wide park but mamed an innocent doll who failed to move aside her bereft mother gazing after their blur cried all back to home where told her mother hugged and pushed the head back on boys she groaned make sure you keep yours you will need it they hunt in packs but you must hunt alone and knock one's head to kingdom come til then keep your's all raggedy but on and dodge the packs until just one revolutions are circular of course said phillip seymour hoffman before succumbing to yet another revolution also must include counter revolution and stagnational eiren buildup prelude to large gaped sighs collectivised as commonised discontent yet if but why choose yet another circle ticket to the same disconnect unless All just be population controlled by Olden King War the nastiest thingdom of All it could not have been more cosy it could not hve been more anything just he and her and the moment where he raised his feet to let her vacuum under neath his chair which he did withought a thought all done and dusted their skeletal breathing trusted the gleaming floor reflected it the place where all would love to sit what would you consider an effective love poem to be? pink and warm? a cosy storm? or just my shoulder unwound to your curled up leaning head half a haiku is you in a jade brew in an ivory bath but the elephant is lost forever unjungled and not even in the room the minimum moment of all in a poem is now and again But its so hard to stop when you have nothing to say but it can be done if the reader agrees not to go on into the white wild wander YOnDeR ... accounted for then what place is there for the unaccountable seeming repetition of the same verse perhaps even a zoo licked paws of claws fresh mint can hold the incipience of weather in the air but... preserved in amber of the national park of his last dream where no evidence based falls on the fate of the extinct tiger that eats us All in dreams the size of blood cafe is the same different... cause of all will be revealed when it no longer matters very much if at all unending is the strength of it as liquid as the sea the magic of the Tragical can it other be is nothing short of Unmiracle