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Jan 2017
The best poems barely make sense..

To dip my hands into the fountain of her cerebrum.

Her chakra purifys me.

             The ambition to my slow world.

From dusk til dawn staring at the lines on my palms.

               Stuck to a song
     My skin is the uniform of the norm

There's always an open door

but they shall always return after they explore  

just like a loyal cat they are bored.
Ahchosi Grandiose
Written by
Ahchosi Grandiose  77/F/New York
(77/F/New York)   
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