When I's Connect

Two breaths rise in a four eye stalemate.
Momentary disfigurations protect
so that primary perceptions can be allayed
in a way that will stop the souls of broken breathers
trying to conceive blurs through mixed up mix tapes;
Lush bowls of poisoned grapes
that count round about glances
as chances of hope and fear.
Falling, rolling, toiling,
moments of click and pow.
Gun shot irises
burn back into the flaming phlegm
hoarded so that when
the moment comes,
when all is lost and gained,
all the darts may emancipate.
Claws raise.
Volitions lock.

A twitch.
A twist.
Paws protecting
halt for gleam.
Chinks crack.
The lenses refit,
refocus,
reignite.
Two slow lights shed armor.
Stand.
Wait.
Walk close.
Examine in tender fear,
and smile sunbeam songs.
All recourse fades.
Volitions dissipate.

A sure grip clasps.
Long chains softly sync,
filling the soul mirrors
with the happy torrents.
Faint stomachs plummet
as swirled smokes saunter
'round in waltz,
drying empty lips
and sipping pupils
in quenching embrace.
Tiny tears grip tenderly,
laugh frolicking along cheeks
as flags of surrender.
One breath rises,
one I sees.