Hello Alfred where ya bin?
Cruising aisles of memories tinned, a good deal
thinner when you last checked in.
Back slapped worn, born of songs between
your ears, evenings out are scrims on which
you show your friends what is what and what they fear.
Oh you pickled miscreant.
I dare you. Eat me. All up.
Apr 27, 2016
Apr 27, 2016 at 7:16 AM UTC
Hello Alfred where ya bin?
Cruising aisles of memories tinned, a good deal
thinner when you last checked in.
Back slapped worn, born of songs between
your ears, evenings out are scrims on which
you show your friends what is what and what they fear.
Oh you pickled miscreant.
I dare you. Eat me. All up.
The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock entices me. Shout out to Eliot and inspiration.
