You know how much I owe to the credit card companies, how it is to begin again, and what old music creates in my chest--conflation.
Do you dance the genius?
They'd don't call it the Blue Monster for nothing.
A dun glut grunts.
The inside of your golf ball is orange green or blue.
Who of us will be today's oppressor.
A page of miniature reindeer red shivers an unblue body bare feet. As a homophobe I braid myself. Tree stump fresh of its tree. Let's say aspen on the verge of.
The gay stereotype is entertaining. Tell me.
What I brought to interrupt the love story, words
A Dutch painting's walnuts in a white and blue bowl make me fall in love with you. No, Tim, it was you and not the painting that makes me express. I've never imagined your eyes closed without me.
O doggedly handsome you are unavailable, or I am.
I keep telling everyone to go to Al-Anon.
When could you desire me, chasing for when I'm a child the sounds of nine pins struck attention.
Or swept cursives we wrote denial at desire at us desiring to be together without shame.
To sing a music outside
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment