does it quiet down quite like the boat built for thrones. quilt in a flashy pattern to hone those that moan in distress to a tone that goes without oars. Ours Uranus envied. tightly like the slipknot that slowly brought the cone to breath. The cone held depth but no more than the test we cheat and skip fast like all the rest. arrest me nay but may it be known there was no one that groped this 20 dollar bill tighter than any other mans addiction. hopefully one day we believed. but probably a night, this endless feed would fulfill its fight. return to a swarm but perhaps alone, remove the breath that basks afloat this bone.
quick to a dust.
proud as sun.
your goodbye, a smile. and a wink that was won, maybe you felt it. close and come near. but maybe distant, hidden, and nonexistent was it, like your fears. slipped from the pool off the diving boards divorce. we felt its return to fame as a belt on the mane. all was quiet on the sunlit stage. silhouettes to a frame and my cranium to the cane. like a gap was made. in the space, now what remained was a scar on my head where the hair was shaved.
light and it worked.
but still had doubt in our dour faces, tears tumbled out.
and then soon, we become confused.
were the lights on the streets those of the moon? when could we find them slip through the grass. on a tired binged morning would I sleep at last? was it past the noon in the night we prayed. is that the question? is there any redemption, am I too tense then, for the 9-5 man to realize his wage? is the question the question or the answer we seek. it pressed against the kidney we guessed, and then flipped we questioned was it the appendix. or the pancreas. kings cross saint pancras would suggest rest was not the best option.
we sought cooperation. none we got but maybe a salt shaker flipped, one grain above the edge, 95 proof, 51% off the ledge, weight against, the bourgeois rent, patience spent, and the place went. weary eyed gentleman. welcome then to the court. you should have all received then, the letters we sent in envelopes with stamps and other bores. spiraled with a speed down the barrel we swore bent. but soon, evident, to be straight like all the rest.
Is it hard to breath fire?
I always wanted to know.
quick like baskets.
cross legged with the ivy
silhouettes come clear
the wear isn't there
and it seemed never was ever as thin as a hair.
