WINE AND GATES
Rare Bones To Live Blind, Is Bound To Use...
lizard in my gray tunic's pocket
my favorite tunic, though a world-wise lizard may note
this thing of yours, with a misery in their nose, taking off like a rocket
isn't a hat the difference you need, the point of callous hope?
penny's make me sneeze allowed, making my hat fall off
that and the ridicule of a knowing rage in my hand, wasn't a hateful glare...
their excuse to smell the finery of life, the chaste in the breed of a scoff
many minutes of gain and joy may go by, but the earn of seeking stares for the comfort of fair
sound's like you need to go to the bathroom, says the reptile
the chastity you sought is in the mists of courage to wink, if not begin a rough
perhaps a bated breath is no place to know the fishiness of a they, if not all
of a smile to stink in their view, the purpose of a handful of food to clear for the love
but they whistle on old bones, and think the must of a good passing
the account goes and comes as if followed by the dogs of war
but in the end, a message from a friend costs all, such paranoia for the asking
its as if they are ghosts, to hold the way for a wishing arse of kind and adore
glaring at me himself, the lizard whistles a little tune
the touch of sunshine in my breath for a step, to the courage which we've seen
in these final eyes on the prize, of another day with the lips of when
we keep the tart essence of another kind of kiss, the knowledge of ways been
with a swallow, the mercy of a cold share in the passing guile is seen
the love of young duty, and the hours of shaping love in history
is a place for the firsts of many, the heat of a coming day so keen
that the eye of rational would, the sanction of another lend of epistolary
sinking a tooth in my hand, the role of the days victor versus victim is known
the malediction of religion in my step, the future of a soul with a lower eye
the sight of reason has become the nature of more than their lies, a hap to own
thank you comes from both creatures, in the seclusions of a jaded mere to deny
epitaph: kiss of the dragon and their ashes
the salt of a lie lies in the way of everything but itself, to keep is to mere
the during of sensations afoot, for the naivete of gender in the fate of passing
they are, the times for a wrestled fruit of conscience, not the maker of a weird to heard...
my favorite tunic, though a world-wise lizard may note
this thing of yours, with a misery in their nose, taking off like a rocket
isn't a hat the difference you need, the point of callous hope?
penny's make me sneeze allowed, making my hat fall off
that and the ridicule of a knowing rage in my hand, wasn't a hateful glare...
their excuse to smell the finery of life, the chaste in the breed of a scoff
many minutes of gain and joy may go by, but the earn of seeking stares for the comfort of fair
sound's like you need to go to the bathroom, says the reptile
the chastity you sought is in the mists of courage to wink, if not begin a rough
perhaps a bated breath is no place to know the fishiness of a they, if not all
of a smile to stink in their view, the purpose of a handful of food to clear for the love
but they whistle on old bones, and think the must of a good passing
the account goes and comes as if followed by the dogs of war
but in the end, a message from a friend costs all, such paranoia for the asking
its as if they are ghosts, to hold the way for a wishing arse of kind and adore
glaring at me himself, the lizard whistles a little tune
the touch of sunshine in my breath for a step, to the courage which we've seen
in these final eyes on the prize, of another day with the lips of when
we keep the tart essence of another kind of kiss, the knowledge of ways been
with a swallow, the mercy of a cold share in the passing guile is seen
the love of young duty, and the hours of shaping love in history
is a place for the firsts of many, the heat of a coming day so keen
that the eye of rational would, the sanction of another lend of epistolary
sinking a tooth in my hand, the role of the days victor versus victim is known
the malediction of religion in my step, the future of a soul with a lower eye
the sight of reason has become the nature of more than their lies, a hap to own
thank you comes from both creatures, in the seclusions of a jaded mere to deny
epitaph: kiss of the dragon and their ashes
the salt of a lie lies in the way of everything but itself, to keep is to mere
the during of sensations afoot, for the naivete of gender in the fate of passing
they are, the times for a wrestled fruit of conscience, not the maker of a weird to heard...
Comment On This Poem --- Vote for this poem
Rare Bones To Live Blind, Is Bound To Use...
Rare Bones To Live Blind, Is Bound To Use...
