Floating in tune
Compositions are composed
Perpetuity has
It’s position
Right place and time
Spineless familiarity
Reminiscing
Has its dis advantages
Foreshadowing poet
Ground me
In a traditional canvas
Envious of a soaring confidence
I’m more prone too
Hardy planks
A Wounded conceit
In need of buffering
Swung
And missed
Fixing the divots
On my unbalanced floors
Give me two legs
To stand on firmly
Glass house is made of
Paper machete
I’d rather have a porcelain finish
A paint brush
Exposes her flaws
Nothings close too
Perfection
The sandpaper
Needs a stronger grit
Unaffected
Did it ever really do the trick
Take it’s job
Seriously
Smooth out the rougher edges
That are apparently
Impenetrable
In any and all conditions
Regardless of the situation
Mother Earth would
You moisten all the harshest
Parts of me
Like silky white pearls
And let me fulfill all my
Yet to be seen desires
In limitless abundance