If a page view was a straight view
Into the eye of the mind
Its not.

I say I'm not gonna spend a dime
and waste my minds precious time
waste bated breath on some unread rhymes
act like its fine
like it's always been a victim-less crime
like I didn't feel like I was on the clothesline
hung out to dry
buts its fine
its fine
its fine
It's Fine.

But...
I am fine..
I would never say that I wasted my time.
We're in different vineyards,
We're maturing
And you make a very fine wine.
I just have the tendency to martyr myself sometimes.

you find it strange I have to write down all the words that come to my head when I think of you
poetry, an artform
I find it stranger that you're a work of art yourself and you don't even have to try
thats way more beautiful than my words could ever be

doing just the body lips
girl full of sits
short skirt barely
inches into
smooth mile
becomes

hands neatly
collapsed in
perfect house of
curled beauty

from which
twitch

two spates
of fragile wrist
twist upon

eery limb
of excellent
arm

metting
just clasp
of shoulder

under
which fits

over
cleat of
marble neck

holding hover
of heaven's
strand:

a face like
she so
April
drunk inside with
flowers Spring

and everywhere

  (constantly)


    MUSiC