If only I could weave these
tendrils of confusion...

Fervent rainbow kisses,
Bask in the sun's lucid rays...

.
The sparks no longer fall simultaneously...

Rainfall,
Redeeming, fresh...

I thought I wrote a poem about it already,
but as I'm flipping through your pages...

I called you a legend upon Fall,
how you trumpeted against frost...

When I can no longer feel
the spirit of the sun.....he frees my soul...

If I was cemented on that one-way highway
words could not be said loud and fast enough...

I don't know how many shots of vodka
I've had, definitely more than two, clear liquid...

4:13
and I count down...

You spend my wages willfully, gleefully,
tasting the rotting flesh between my teeth...

His love disappears
when I need...