Michael Thomas Taren

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Don’t go.
Suddenly they feel ludicrous and evening too heavy.
Don’t go and never forgive me.
God is here why.
My skin takes me off.
It may return but the greater and where one finally covered up.
The third is in the empty presence.
Besides
What are really the organisms
As a lamp moves through heavens.
To annihilate is there enough
When you say it like this.
It’s not at all like me, he writes.
Don’t leave, he ventures.
We must begin to leave.
We know how to do it.
Because home is near.
And Man is friendship.
He heard above someone with me regard him.
I feel under my front
A million waters pass beneath my legs.
A muscle stopped moving suddenly stopped.
He can barely write this.
There is no longer an effort to wake
The servant in the hilly region.
He can barely turn to who comes.
They thinking, “That will after all be him.”
They thinking, “I wear the plaid pants.”
Somebody’s ear.
Someone’s.
That’s just like me
To talk like this,
Now one needn’t have evaded
A blonde ribbon redeeming the mind.
Such gentle fear.
The domination is a girl raising her skirt
From behind all those abilities.
The hilly region’s organs vibrating in heaven.
Someone said this and so that’s enough
To have written, while it is self-imposed
Yet firm that I have been awoken.
They offered their wives.
The yearning is endowed abundantly
And is for endlessness.
But they, they still arouse one most mistook
As harmless, and he greets them their present
Not least emerged.
And against it you cloud just as


I shall never cloud.
And the portions of the injury that slip
Into the despising river the annulments and nothing set free
(Then, freed.)
Whatever had been clear
And for whom and why
Were directions too.
I hate I also love but I hate I hate too.

Michael Thomas Taren accepts everything that happens.