The sewer of my mouth
Pours a
distasteful evocation.

here we sit,
painted by the autumn glow of the sun.
Just on the edge
Towards spinning iridescent
Thoughts.

This presents soft soothing moisture... emotions congregate
Above the taste of vernacular.
And I sit,
Watching the lingering face of death
The times I see are ready to excavate into that strawberry sweet remedy
By the face
Of her seductive charm.