Adonis, The Identity 


Adonis, I call you – in every poem where you are mentioned without name.

Adonis, the heartbreak.

Adonis, the trapezoid. Adonis. Adonis. Full force.

Sticky fingers, Adonis, judgmental jubilee emancipated by scientific opera.

Adonis, the unknown.

Adonis of the Vikings. Adonis, and starving, estranged, enabling entropy
with phallic dust and influencing Enoch with singular gasps. ADONIS. You left.
Again. Engaged and enraged by the multiple moods of flowers and moons and all
The changing phases, Adonis, an argument stained in black and blue. Adonis,
Cries tenfold, forgets birthdays and names, the lyrics to songs, piano keys, and
The difference between orange and red. Adonis, sun. Adonis, SUN. Adonis, you
Are the sun embalmed in an ocean current, crystalized and immobilized by the
Duration of the universe’s longevity, inconvenient to you in a forever where you
Fall in love and out of the bed, consumed and impatient – ADONIS in love is
Dangerous and desperate – warm, willing and wistful with romance. Adonis,
The multitudes of you draw comparison to every event happening in another
Divide of a different galaxy. Adonis, like everything, Aries and rosemary.
Adonis, your laughter is a lie.

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