I unconsciously give it away
Listen to the depths of my voice as they draw a thought
Squeeze me
OH, my squire.

There can be miracles!
Paradise my soul
Meet me by the gravity of your fantasies
Attend to me with more than a glance.

Refill my glass
Scum me before the vines visit the channel to my thoughts
The truth will form a shape to my eye
It will create a window in my mouth;
To swallow your delight,
To spit out your rotten reasoning
From your past
Your slave of a truth
I shall induce your imperfections

Oh, my squire!
You speak of beauty so fluently.

Speak Your Mind


Notify me of followup comments via e-mail. You can also subscribe without commenting.