Like
flowers in a garden of a satin silhouette
Ninety-nine
big red balloons tied on a blue Corvette
I
sit here by the willow where xylem marked my years
I
fight to break the firmament- this shallow atmosphere
A
sonnet to my secrets that war has just begun
Sickened
superegos – no more or less than one
Neurons
paint the canvas of stormy nights, they do
Of
sweet, tender deception – each dosage coated blue
Love,
sweet love, avenge me as words of truth be true
None
other can I fathom, but distant thoughts of you
None
other can I fathom, but distant thoughts of you
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