It's the strangest
thing.
All my senses are
alive, ablaze with
ultra keenness.
My brain is
sweetly burned,
and my eyes are
on fire.
I can taste the
cotton candy clouds,
snd the cab that
I'm riding in smells
of coconut and
honeysuckle.
Those ravens have
mustaches like Poe,
and those raccoons
look just like
Bukowski.
I hear an Opera by
Wagner in the wind,
and my footsteps sound
like the very
pulse of life
Mar 21, 2023
Mar 21, 2023 at 8:47 AM UTC
It's the strangest
thing.
All my senses are
alive, ablaze with
ultra keenness.
My brain is
sweetly burned,
and my eyes are
on fire.
I can taste the
cotton candy clouds,
snd the cab that
I'm riding in smells
of coconut and
honeysuckle.
Those ravens have
mustaches like Poe,
and those raccoons
look just like
Bukowski.
I hear an Opera by
Wagner in the wind,
and my footsteps sound
like the very
pulse of life
Request permission to use this poem