Before the After & the birth of Bless

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How near to neatness it was placed in the palm of your hands/

Demanding to withstand your pleasure, yearning the escape to
understand/

Restless in promise to compromise & into the undone kingdom of flesh-nots & whatever/

Standing naked in pubic hiding;communicating to grow next to Endeavor/

Swallowing the sewing hollow of fought visions, not so seen/

Judging with taunts of repulsiveness that in which time has never dreamed/

All for a potion of power to last ever lasting, thirsting for the judgement of power/

She opens her legs to reveal the truth in berth. "It is not ripe", the time the speak of in ceremony. Cemetery known salvation is nothing, least next to it's destination's intention. Liner time can now become "our" hour/

Midwives collect any thing that can be sacred from this & preserve them all for reasons of safety & sacrifice their tongues, to keep the words pure.  Speaking of nothing, to keep all from growing sour/

Fought before you were thought of in life/

Making you see lust in like/

Bound. Compromised. Followed/

Self feeding you all that you want to become, & secretly not forgiving hollowed/

Punish you in the slumber, while walking in the shadow of tomorrow. Maybe on purpose, yet never given to be borrowed/

Continue to become in the name of this/

Prosper from the child's passage: It's true name is Infinity, yet you naturally yearn to kiss it upon the lips when speaking it's name: Bliss