Scribbles could tailor sentiments as calibers of delirium contend
over the power that seizes you to seize me till I congeal to a cherry mute.
over the power that seizes you to seize me till I congeal to a cherry mute.
It winds me up to a dewiness, so in mock of my body clock, I ungravitate.
My rationale, she pokes at your plainness, who in essence does dismantle her;
While we dodge spitballs of romance , I slave to a detached body on me,
balancing on your foggy edge incessantly, two feet, electrified...
2 comments:
'i slave to a detached body on me'. gave me goosebumps. nice :)
"crushes" :P
thanks :)
Post a Comment