Sometimes i stain her fingers black,
leaving smudges on clean paper as she drifts from dream to dream.
i (Soul) am resistant
to false perfume and adult schemes.
It is a wonder that i ever showed this sticky face to a monster-eyed crowd,
Though hidden inside the hem of this woman with thin arms and layers of shroud.
Popsicle cherry glazes my ear to ear grin,
i (Soul) and my purpose nearly lost in her gin.
i (Soul) a small hero still wet in the head,
working for magic while she steals the bread.
S.L. Weisend ~ 2014
May 25, 2014
May 25, 2014 at 9:44 AM UTC
Sometimes i stain her fingers black,
leaving smudges on clean paper as she drifts from dream to dream.
i (Soul) am resistant
to false perfume and adult schemes.
It is a wonder that i ever showed this sticky face to a monster-eyed crowd,
Though hidden inside the hem of this woman with thin arms and layers of shroud.
Popsicle cherry glazes my ear to ear grin,
i (Soul) and my purpose nearly lost in her gin.
i (Soul) a small hero still wet in the head,
working for magic while she steals the bread.
S.L. Weisend ~ 2014
