He protects his phone
but not his ***
Sitting on a cherry
withered-wood,
it's good to remember
that in December,
he waited for this
tired world, to pass
him by, for his mother
to 'please come home.'
Casper, undercut with curls on top,
plays a greyed banjo while wearing
the green-chestnut flannel his dad
wore before he disappeared into
vermilion sky, only remembered
with lullabies from a hopeful mom
that smelled like Pall-Malls and
factory-soaked-heartbreak.
White, chiseled with skeleton intention,
he sips from within himself,
hoping to harness new direction.
Jun 2, 2016
Jun 2, 2016 at 12:33 AM UTC
He protects his phone
but not his ***
Sitting on a cherry
withered-wood,
it's good to remember
that in December,
he waited for this
tired world, to pass
him by, for his mother
to 'please come home.'
Casper, undercut with curls on top,
plays a greyed banjo while wearing
the green-chestnut flannel his dad
wore before he disappeared into
vermilion sky, only remembered
with lullabies from a hopeful mom
that smelled like Pall-Malls and
factory-soaked-heartbreak.
White, chiseled with skeleton intention,
he sips from within himself,
hoping to harness new direction.
Ma and Pa,
lover doves,
Kiss with fists
And hug with shoves
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