Under the lustre Moon
gazes are barbed,
do I really know you now?
At times your trumpet
plays for the days forlorn.
Yet your ruinous music
is confusingly staccato,
others piodiums always knew more,
my confession nonetheless
the adverbial cow will land
somewhere close I hope
to feel your clasp chancre
Feb 9, 2015
Feb 9, 2015 at 4:59 PM UTC
Under the lustre Moon
gazes are barbed,
do I really know you now?
At times your trumpet
plays for the days forlorn.
Yet your ruinous music
is confusingly staccato,
others piodiums always knew more,
my confession nonetheless
the adverbial cow will land
somewhere close I hope
to feel your clasp chancre
#heart
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