Red, Gentle, Soft, Sore

Inopportune innuendo
call it innate condition of the age
Digital public
gleaming phosphorescence
Illness dripping from mouth
to body to floor to air to body
Fields of energy flow
Minds dancing between and within
pulsating beats in body
blank space and dense energy
Deep assholes with numb sex organs
Clear electric lifelike, open
pathways of sweat and heat
Red, gentle, soft, sore tubes
Legions and spasms, speculations:

There would be no words without flowers.
Colorless sound and colorful silence.
Carry flowers to their bodies
To sing to their absolution.
I see silence in the opening of an orchid;
I see why the dead need flowers.