thought tears and naked fears getting stuck in the gears lighting bonfires of vanities that back-light a band playing only golden tambourines.
Telephone lines serve now only mice who spy like rats who have greedy little hands and a hunched over spine wearing their honesty on their rolled up sleeve to pretend that they don't steal my melody schemes.
I want to hear him sleep soundly, my prince, I don't have to convince him to go to the 3 AM ashram where we disembalm knowledge that has fallen quite far from the tree to be it's own king that will reign supreme failing to see all the little ones clamoring to be free and eat of the fruit bright tangerine dream. Like trees we lean to the sun, we grow straight up, we bow to the water.
Like leaves we learn that falling is floating, our buds will come back in full bloom to embellish the garland of our past, present, it is always now and then is the hour. We give hope, protection, and ecstasy is dawn in lover's arms, how else to fast and pray for intervention?
