WINE AND GATES
Winking Babies Without Futures, Served Draught's...?
put to hush, the few of a need
the lurking bout of sound, if anywhere
to the knee's of ought in time, to heed
the account of some how in have, the fair
as shrewd as your wan done made song
yearning's fix to vexed, the place of summation
foreout to know, the cope to lucks never seen, but forgiven
of a since in seasons fresh, to view a mastery of skin
doors on the fate, of superiority in the senses of the irate
poor was the day of the ideas that made you, my sparseness in holds
the stare of a lifetime I know, the conscience served to liberty to sate
the act of survival is but a shame in the throes of silk and hills of kind to gold
yonder have and have not
the sides of silence you approve of, the taste of malice and the challenge of mayhem
if but the love of corners and the misogyny of a nary done ilk, what
is your name if I wear your kisses for the wishes in the brazenness of an encouraged whim?
salt, and the island of your time
the many with the might in youth, the control of stars of briefer truth than we thought
together or apart, the whisper of a vaunted shape in the clouds, where we are known for trying
the trying, where the half of sin is a clarity in faith of a neglect, to show for an eye's lot
the lurking bout of sound, if anywhere
to the knee's of ought in time, to heed
the account of some how in have, the fair
as shrewd as your wan done made song
yearning's fix to vexed, the place of summation
foreout to know, the cope to lucks never seen, but forgiven
of a since in seasons fresh, to view a mastery of skin
doors on the fate, of superiority in the senses of the irate
poor was the day of the ideas that made you, my sparseness in holds
the stare of a lifetime I know, the conscience served to liberty to sate
the act of survival is but a shame in the throes of silk and hills of kind to gold
yonder have and have not
the sides of silence you approve of, the taste of malice and the challenge of mayhem
if but the love of corners and the misogyny of a nary done ilk, what
is your name if I wear your kisses for the wishes in the brazenness of an encouraged whim?
salt, and the island of your time
the many with the might in youth, the control of stars of briefer truth than we thought
together or apart, the whisper of a vaunted shape in the clouds, where we are known for trying
the trying, where the half of sin is a clarity in faith of a neglect, to show for an eye's lot
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Winking Babies Without Futures, Served Draught`s...?
Winking Babies Without Futures, Served Draught`s...?