shackles of time hold
tic
tic
come with me now
lic
lic
do you see the vines
snif
snif
lemon drips sweet perfume
drop
drop
lie on the staid
stif
stif
Heckles devour the jester on the stage of thought
Pleasure with me whilst breathing with borrowed manners
Palms held entrusting with well meaning sweat
Parched lips allow dry tongue to swiftly cleanse
Eyelids close as eyes eagerly consume the view
end
end
Sunday, June 12, 2011
this will be the death of us
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