Fiery white horse in the skies,
and lost upon my villain
are the heroes....
and brutal staking
as the Angel sleeps
and un-aware.
No presidential
of the conditional
of press play
and yet
can you truly
press forward.
Can you understand
pressing unwind.

Angels come black and blue,
and yet still so understood
in a tape that's been tampered
in a Christmas hamper
of not lust but reminiscence

I wish I held you.....
in breaths in the
water stream
never a flaw
in this girl's
design
and
cut and
out
figuratively
and strangely
never been

The scissors
are hap-heart edly
held closest
to my veins.

Not meant to scare.....
I stopped believing,
when the termites
and night time nits
And the only relief,
are my conditioned
of relieving
The black of white,
of the flowing
of the stallions.

I just wish for the best
of her now.