Sleeping in throws,
Wrestling in pillows.
This baby is convulsing,
Stuck homeless in cotton rows.
She jiggles tickles,
Crisp, she is fickle.
She tingles the conniption.
Nerves, in axon missiles.
Binky slips, the eyelid's 'clipse,
Her wrist is the pith,
Of nights caption "Mist".
Sleeping babies.
Calm nights hard winds,
As the spring commences,
Graduation of twigs,
To sprigs of life,
To growing thighs,
Cough up the milieu.
Minutia.
The growing immortality.
Mar 21, 2013
Mar 21, 2013 at 11:12 PM UTC
Sleeping in throws,
Wrestling in pillows.
This baby is convulsing,
Stuck homeless in cotton rows.
She jiggles tickles,
Crisp, she is fickle.
She tingles the conniption.
Nerves, in axon missiles.
Binky slips, the eyelid's 'clipse,
Her wrist is the pith,
Of nights caption "Mist".
Sleeping babies.
Calm nights hard winds,
As the spring commences,
Graduation of twigs,
To sprigs of life,
To growing thighs,
Cough up the milieu.
Minutia.
The growing immortality.
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