"intruder" poems
Summer morning -
pink jets of clouds
splash out
from the golden well of the east
falling just short
of an ebbing moon.
Streams of swallows
flutter and glide
over the garden -
they are all flying
in the same direction
as if erupting
from the sun’s waking pulse.
Just for a moment
one of the birds hangs
perfectly still -
like the top-most drop of water
from a fountain before it turns
to face the glittering pool.
Beneath them all
the hummingbird
makes her rounds
and a dove scratches the earth
below the feeder
keeping an wary eye
on the scribbling intruder.
So many summer mornings -
too many summer mornings
I have wasted
worrying about the world
and my place in it –
absent from my own body
and breath
the cage of my ribs
rising, falling, and pausing
without me. Meanwhile,
another swallow
stills her wings.
Buoyed by an unseen breeze
she is both feathered sail
and cresting wave as she slices
over my shoulder bearing west.
Tom Spencer © 2015
Jul 4, 2015
Jul 4, 2015 at 12:16 PM UTC
From a distance,
the incessant chant of monsoon from south west,
sounds like an old witch practising her craft,
she is all evil and dark, one would think,
the overcast sky her sinister cloak.
But intruder under my umbrella, she is playful,
I watch this coy maiden, I desired from afar,
now she walks with me step to matching step,
tries to entice me with her soft tunes,
tender cool fingers, rubbing my cheeks,
her lover's touch unmistakable, passionate, eager
I shiver, she wants me to get in to her arms, cuddle.
I throw away my umbrella,
in boyish rumbunctiousness, run to her
her hands moving fast tickle me, pinch
then a sudden embrace, making me squirm
with deep pleasure I dreamt in wakeful nights.
The joy of life that the water and receptive earth evoke,
loud green glee around, in me creates goosebumps,
in my dreams she comes to me
and tells the secrets of
nights I long for my love and me alone.
Rain, the seductress, taught me
the passions of living and loving
she, awakened the spirit that seeps deep in to the
core of my being.
**When I lay awake in monsoon nights,
across my window she tangoes
in fierce passion with the wind,
that keeps me excited till I get absorbed
in to a dream that has love as its theme.**
Jun 9, 2013
Jun 9, 2013 at 12:45 PM UTC
Ganges, dawn, a luminous haze
over the water. The bathing ghats
are busy with the faithful. (But India
is inconceivable without faith.)
The robed bathers, raising river water
to the sun, pouring it back
to mother Ganges, are they worshipping
the sun or the river?
For them God is everywhere
and everything. Water, sun,
the river and the twinkling lamps floating on it
are part of one consciousness.
The burning ghats too (such quantities of wood
stacked ready) are beginning their day.
The funeral party approaching in respectful haste
have a job to do. They build their pile,
move the body to the wood,
start the fire. I watch, but not for long.
This moment, so intimate, so public, reminds me
I am an intruder here. The ashes
will return to Ganga unwitnessed by me.
Away from the river, the vendors of tea
do their trade among the stalls. Monkeys,
cheerfully pilfering, are chased away
half-heartedly, for they are Hanuman’s representatives,
and they, with the sacred, garbage-clearing cows,
are part of the one consciousness. In this land
all are “the faithful”, everything is God’s creation.
In this poverty is richness.
Nov 29, 2016
Nov 29, 2016 at 2:58 PM UTC
the very sadness. the very sadness of the intruder who brings his own plate to drop. the very ecstasy of telling a classmate he or she is ugly along with one finger he or she must choose. the cutting of the fingers to equal size. the unintended ecstasy of the sadness I use to *** a cobweb where I wait for something I’ll do nothing with.
Jun 19, 2014
Jun 19, 2014 at 12:46 AM UTC
The Pigeon Gent,
He woos and coos around the river bent.
Pursues his muse with artful dance and skillful prance,
With inflated neck and ruffled plumage, until his energy or luck is spent.
He then resides by ebbing tides to ponder on his next advance.
"Now Now", "Whats This" the gent exclaims,
A shadow looming from the skies.
With ***** and claps he glides and lands with full surprise,
He spies the intruder, "A fellow Brooder".
Pigeon gent cant believe his eyes.
Pigeon Gent cannot believe the sauce,
The scurge seems intent on taking his prize by force.
At once he knows he must respond,
And force this illbread vagabond to abscond.
At once chest puffed and muscles flexed,
With wild eyes he jabs and pecks.
To teach this ruffian respect,
So on his actions he may later reflect.
He stands his ground both large and proud,
To make example of this foul winged burglar from the clouds.
"You insult me sir" he shouts aloud,
To make his intentions clear for all the crowd.
For several rounds they fight and scuffle.
With intruder retreating, feathers ruffled.
Then bested suiter fairly parted,
The quarrel ends as fast as started.
The vanquished victor displays and grooms,
As peace and honour now resumes.
Soon the ripples upset the green,
An armada of ducks come on the scene.
Alerted by the heightend coos,
They race to see what act insues.
The mighty mallards, Kings of the river,
None contest their right of way.
Their ways of conduct such generous givers.
Majestic river royalty, the law is always what they say.
On bank or shallow pebbled river they have always been,
They love to feed and breed amongst the river scene.
There royal cape made up of browny reds and shimmering greens,
reflects and intejects on mirrored water skies and evergreens.
To their mates for life and lady lovers,
The mallard gent is like no others.
Such loyalties are seldom seen,
In modern times and different dreams.
Fine and lean with striking features,
Best examples of river teachers.
But at any moment no matter how abrubt,
A river duel may easily erupt.
Battle can ensue and rage,
As both apponents approach and engage.
For they mate for life as duck and wife,
A rarity in any age or life.
Sep 2, 2018
Sep 2, 2018 at 1:38 PM UTC
I get this feeling,
It sinks through my spine.
Sits in my bones.
Like an unwanted guest,
And I, the unwilling host.
The intruder finds its way to my feet.
Making my toes curl,
And tap.
Restlessly twitching,
As if ready to run.
But I'm not ready for anything.
My hands do the same.
Hard to hold anything,
With this earthquake
Terrorizing my body.
Cold and uneasy,
They cling to each other.
Is it just a chemical,
Artificial affliction?
Or a symptom,
Of all lost direction?
Where do I put
All this misplaced disruption?
Now find the pieces,
Paint the picture.
Find some reason
In this sloppy meter.
My understated explanation.
May 3, 2015
May 3, 2015 at 8:39 PM UTC
Jellyfish in the dock
Quietly guarding his spot
An intruder drifts by
With a challenging eye
So he gives him all that he's got
The quarrel to settle
He showed him his mettle
Caressed him all over
With arms like a nettle
The stranger acts tough
Calling his bluff
Hanging around in a bit of a huff
He drifted off, he'd shown him what's what
There was no doubt who was king of the dock-
It was one of his better exchanges
But he thought how strange for a fish,
To have tattooed on his chest
Good food costs less at Sainsburys
Feb 23, 2013
Feb 23, 2013 at 12:59 PM UTC
The Sun shines on my computer
Creating a protective glare
But night comes like an intruder
At pictures I begin to stare
After I view their portrait online
I want to see their body on mine
We talk all night
Until I see the light
That they're not that bright
Or that they like to fight
Desperation swirls
I enter a world
Where the randomness of human interaction
Meets the randomness of my attraction
And the low visibility
Endears no civility
Will I spend infinity
In this digital city?
The creatures try to hide
They scatter in the distance
They're not hard to find
When their profiles leave imprints
But the parasites are quick
And the scavengers stick
Vultures fly from iPad to iPhone
Leeches try to make my pad their home
Devouring me until I'm bad to the bone
Like the solicitous predators
Who act like creditors
And the sly foxes
Who claim they're locksmiths
They all have claws and fangs
They're all just jaws with brains
I play possum
Until I've lost them
When monsters are made from loneliness
They try to trick me with phoniness
They feel I wouldn't want us to be together
And they're probably right
Because all I want is to spend forever
In love's divine light
Nocturnal animals just want the meal
Of my motion
They don't want to honestly feel
My devotion
In the wild
I am a child
The creatures cut deep
They make me weep
Until I choose to sleep
But when I avoid their glance
I avoid love's chance
Oct 17, 2017
Oct 17, 2017 at 4:39 AM UTC
By. Lauren
A throbbing pain,
A moment in which I hear nothing.
A bullet to the head.
A scream to leave me alone.
Doctors say “if a headache lasts more than 24 hours than there is something wrong."
“What about 24/7?” I scream in my brain.
My headache is not a scream for your help;
It is a scream for the God I left years ago to hurry up and **** me.
For as long as I can remember my headache has been there for me.
My headache comes over at the worst of times banging on my door refusing to leave.
My headache is worse than the Jehovah’s Witness banging on my door every Sunday.
My headache is an intruder refusing to leave even after I call the cops.
My headache makes me scream,
So keep away from me.
My headache has taken a hold of me.
My headache makes the lights in my room look like the holy light waiting to blind me.
I know not of the life I had before headache because headache has always been holding my hand.
My headache is a lover who I can not seem to leave no matter how many times I say,
‘I am through”
My headache is the person on the other side of the aisle
Saying,
“I do”
Before I could run away.
So when the doctor gave me the bottle of pills that rattled in the passenger seat of my car all the way home I was shocked to see I was afraid to divorce my lover headache.
Because
My headache loved me.
Mar 1, 2019
Mar 1, 2019 at 1:19 PM UTC
When I look out from the smudged and cracked windows of home,
I know there's no place quite the same as right here;
No place I could find that quite catches my ear,
And no place quite the same that can swallow my fears,
To the depths of this heated and comfortable box,
In which I am protected by numerous locks,
From intruders and bandits,
Salesmen and clerks;
I am the legal intruder,
And for me, that's what works.
Yet I'm here when, in fact, I am meant to be there;
Not far from my home,
I'm meant to be learning whats fair.
I am meant to be learning what's right and what's wrong,
Yet 6 hours of my time a day seems quite long,
To be spending on verbs, nouns and pronouns,
On algebra, fractions, and abnormal word sounds.
This life is not theirs; this life is all mine,
Such an old and used system would appear to be right,
Yet I beg to differ, as revolution now squeaks,
To push through the systems cracks and cause leaks,
In which free-thinking filters the words of the old,
Who believe themselves better, for they're trained and so bold.
When I look to society, what is it I see?
Is it a throng of a thousand people who seem to be free?
Not quite, yet at the same time, that seems quite close,
They are free in a box, in which authority is the host.
*"Civilization has to be defended against the individual,
And its regulations, institutions and commands are directed to that task."**
Quite an obvious command,
And it seems that at last,
Man is learning to embrace what they each see as free;
And it does not simply stop at being free to simply be,
It goes beyond such in mind, matter, soul, and in trust;
For it is the systems denial,
Towards which I lust.
The institutions, and nations,
Corporations, news stations,
Stateism, classism, all attempt to control,
Who I am, what I do, where I go, who I meet;
They tell me to relax, and just take a quick seat;
Yet I know what I want from life is free feet,
To be who I am,
And take all the heat.
To do what I do,
And ignore what's 'elite.'
To go where I go,
And control, as such, my feet.
To meet who I meet,
And next to them, take a seat.
I am not a name,
And I am not a number.
I am always awake in my mind,
As I slumber.
Oct 18, 2010
Oct 18, 2010 at 10:58 AM UTC
Paranoia in the dark of night
creating shadows into figures
and creatures from stacks of ***** laundry.
It whispers sounds of footsteps into my ears,
feigning the noise of an intruder.
It makes the darkness malleable
morphing it into a monster under my bed
or a boogeyman in my closet.
Maybe I’m paranoid of the dark…
Or perhaps whatever lurks within it.
Feb 22, 2015
Feb 22, 2015 at 5:34 PM UTC
I took the first sip of white wine in
trepidation for the aftermath of drunk
people in movies is not very pleasant.
I downed it all, faster than an intruder
who wiretaps an important building
somewhere in America. I had vowed to
not drown in the poison I had just consumed.
But what happened later proved me wrong.
I swam in clouds and I floated in shallow
waters for the slurs that lay on my tongue
were not something I would utter in a
sober state. I cavorted. I danced. I showed
skin. I was the frog that clandestinely dances
in the rain and hides away before the ground
is dry again. I swirled like a whirlpool. My cheeks
were red and I emitted happiness. I made silly
jokes about a plant named Wisteria and lay
in bed, twirling away in my drunken madness.
Jan 19, 2017
Jan 19, 2017 at 8:08 AM UTC
A Man killing in the name of Justice
A Brother slaying another in Self-defense
A Son firing a round into an intruder in Fear
A Nephew taking up a sword for his Country
An Uncle giving up a criminal to the Authorities
A Grandfather using his cane in response to Violence
A Need for
Power, Money, Fame.
A Response of
****** Theft, Oppression.
A Need for
Justice, Vengeance, Retribution.
A Response of
Judgement, Violence, Restitution.
Two sides of the same coin?
Who is the villain?
If both are the victims of the other,
Who is Guilty?
What then is Justice?
Who shall decide?
You?
Will You be the one to throw the first stone?
Do Good and Evil,
Equate to Yin and Yang?
Balanced forces of Light and Dark.
Or,
Is Evil apparent and easily discerned from Good?
Contrasts of Black and White.
If Neither, Nor,
Do they mix into a swirl of indecision?
A mess of self-righteous Grey.
What if it is my own life I sacrifice?
What if I am the one taking the bullet?
Not in a suicidal attempt or mission,
But instead in protection of Good.
Am I the Villain for causing my ******
Is the intended Victim the Villain for being targeted?
Are the Witnesses guilty for not acting?
Are You guilty for being unaware?
History is written by the Victors,
So do they command Justice?
Does History demand the mantle,
Of deciding Right from Wrong?
Everything unsure in the Present,
Until the Future decides.
If You name me the Villain,
I’ll wear it in Red,
Speak in Riddles,
And break the Rules.
But if I name You the Villain,
Would You do the same?
Jun 2, 2017
Jun 2, 2017 at 1:46 PM UTC
*Come, listen all -
listen to a very gentle fable
Of Donkey, Dog and Man
and the friendship
amongst these three*
1
Donkey and Dog are loyal servants;
they’ve served the same master
all their lives
It’s night now and
Donkey and Dog sleep
in the courtyard
while Master
snores in the house
A thief sneaks in
through the gate
and donkey whispers
as gently as he can:
*Hey, dog…There’s an intruder;
Why don’t you bark and let master know?*
And the old Dog growls as
quietly as he can:
*Why don’t you bray aloud
and raise the alarm?*
*Hey, but you’re the dog
and you’re man’s best friend,*
Donkey whispers in the dark
Man’s best friend, eh?
says Dog.
*But is man the dog’s best friend?
I’ve served the master for ages
and now that I’m old he neglects me
and is talking about taking another dog.
I bet he’ll have you skinned alive
when you’re dead!
To the dogs with him!
You bray if you like.*
2
*Oh I’ve never seen
a more ungrateful being,*
Donkey says.
*Master is the best
and though he treats
us harsh
it’s all for our own good.
But your ingratitude offends me
and for the sake of decency and justice
and for all the values I hold dear
I shall have to do
a watchdog’s duty instead.*
And with that
the donkey brays aloud
and the cacophony is heard
in all the village
and the thief runs away as quickly as he can;
and the master comes running out with a huge stick
and seeing the donkey braying madly
with no cause but its own stupidity
the master beats the donkey well and proper
till all his own hands ache
and he goes back to bed
And now Dog and Donkey
lie down again together
in the courtyard
and Dog says to the quiet Donkey:
*Looks like you just found out
how it feels to be man’s best friend!*
Oct 4, 2010
Oct 4, 2010 at 3:17 AM UTC
*peace
please*
private property..
intruder hurtled over
seeking who knows what
screaming obscenities
perfect pitch..
find little solace
but by going within
hide well beneath veneers
possible perfection..
but with one
so very far away
loss near calamitous
pardon presumption..
get over discomfort
pick up sad face
work with it
passable poetry..
may reveal a layer or two
if the inner eye ready
shove preconceived away
puerile pretence..
try to prove points
only to efface the truth
lose bits of the light
petty prisons..
all just deadly excuses against living
get locked in by the self
unlock the cell, throw key away
*please..
peace*
S T, 12 June 2013
Jun 12, 2013
Jun 12, 2013 at 2:52 AM UTC
The truth is I have no idea how to begin this
because I don’t even remember
how or when exactly you began to invade my consciousness.
you were an uninvited guest, a gatecrasher, an intruder
filling my mind with paranoia and endless dilemma —
how I contemplate about going out or not
because I get overwhelmed with crowded places
like public transports, and malls, and fast food chains,
how I s-stutter whenever placing an order,
or how I could not finish one sentence without repeating
repeating a word or or two.
It might sound funny how I find a sea of people terrifying,
how I feel a dagger or a gun pointed at me every time I step
outside my comfort zone,
how I would replay failed scenarios inside my head like a broken tape,
how I would apologize for actions that demanded no apology.
I often get nightmares about being asleep and not being able to wake up
and sometimes I dream about waking up in a strange bed in a foreign room
filled with people with the strangest faces talking in tones barely audible
but when the voices would all stir together
I would run out of air and pass out,
but I still wake up though, screaming, trembling
signaling another episode of survival.
If I could drive, I would take you away with me and bring you to a sunset beach
tell you that everything’s gonna be alright
that it’s okay to knock me down sometimes
but not too hard to break me
just enough to remind me that I am, after all, human
Or maybe I would drown you or maybe not
because I get too overwhelmed with the waves
I struggle against the current,
and I am the one who gets drowned instead.
I hate you, no, I mean I love you. I should love you
because they said those we love are meant to leave
So I will love you, I will love you until you get tired of me,
until you no longer find me appealing
I will love you obsessively, until you get sick of me,
until you run out of places to run to, until you run out of air
I will love you until I run out of words and metaphors
and rhyme or reason,
I will love you with the hopes that one day I could finally say:
“My anxieties have died beautifully, with dignity,
in their sleep.”
Nov 15, 2017
Nov 15, 2017 at 3:56 AM UTC
He lived his eighty years well,
they said
he often knotted his wrinkled hands around the smooth fleshed hands of his grandchildren
still, his heart gave out eventually,
swollen with love
I went to his funeral, a bystander,
an intruder of grief
I take flowers to his grave,
purple tulips with petals
that eat up rain clouds
and sunlight like a ****
taking nourishment from
the red and white roses that
neighbour them
photosynthesis,
I recall the word,
from chemistry classes
an age ago
I never knew him, though
I got his name from a newspaper obituary I ideally flicked through at 4am
I had never known old age, you see
and it seemed beautiful to me
Mar 25, 2016
Mar 25, 2016 at 9:31 AM UTC
A yellow belly cardinal launches itself at my window
Pecks away at the old window pane,
Should I chase the intruder away?
Or should I make him the subject of my next poem
He became my inspiration, and I his adversary
It slurred whistled phrases calm my inner soul
After a while the pecking annoys my daughter’ cat
So, here I am compromising myself and not caring
Because I am about to compose a piece:
About war and peace: title
Fluffy and the **** bird
I took out my camera and zoom in on its beady eyes,
and realize that it was as blind as a bat
Teeth-chattering, tail going from side to side,
doing the war dance this **** cat,
A blind cardinal with a sweet melody
what more can I asked for, but to watch and learn
from the intruder, the spoil feline and the observer,
A yellow belly cardinal launch at my window
Pecks away at the old window pane,
Should I chase the intruder away?
Or let my daughters’ cat razz it?
Mar 29, 2015
Mar 29, 2015 at 9:23 AM UTC
Awakened mind
Body trapped
In reduced consciousness
Laying in a comatose state
Stitched to the mattress
Frozen
Cannot speak
Cannot scream
Repressed hysteria
Suffocating
Under the weight
Of the invisible intruder
The presence
Anchoring me down
Obstructing my breathing
Dark shadows
Dancing
By the chest of ****** drawers
An apparition of a bearded ******
Standing at the edge of the bed
Appears
Dark particles of fabric fill my eyes
I fight the fight
This shall not be my demise
Wake me up
I will die another day.
Jan 19, 2014
Jan 19, 2014 at 5:19 PM UTC
I bought myself a gun today.
I’ll give you a moment to process the mental paper work.
Is he serious?
Is this guy for real?
Is this a metaphor? Is it loaded?
Are these questions
you might ask?
Isn’t this supposed to be a poem?
I said I bought myself a gun today.
Do you feel better?
Safer?
Do I
seem more dangerous?
Are my words more weighted now--
with violence?
with virility?
with ***********
Are you looking at my crotch
for an extra bulge?
How do you feel
about me now
knowing that I’m packing?
I bought myself a gun today,
And just like that
I’m a gangsta upholding the second amendment.
I’m a citizen of the constitution
holding up my right
to bear arms,
and raise my hand in a fist--
a fist, that’s gripped in tension
a fist that’s an extension
of man and invention
and I really should mention
I can blow your ******* head off
without the slightest intention.
I bought myself a gun today,
Are you scared:
that I don’t know how to use it?
That it might want to use me?
That I might become
overwrought with emotions,
and respond to an argument
“Arnold” style with, an,
“I’ll be back?”--
that I might settle things
once and for all
with my noisy neighbor
in a language he might finally understand?
Are you scared?
I bought myself a gun today.
Does that make you worry?
You know what the statistics say,
That I have a better chance of shooting
myself,
than some intruder,
or mugger, or ******
or therapist even.
Are you worried about my self-destruction?
that I might I might accidentally
have an
accident?
Or, maybe, you may think,
that it might be on purpose?
that I might be singing
the, “Barrel-in-the-mouth blues?”--
not just fantasizing
about ‘em,
but singing ‘em with a with my mouth wide open,
and feeling them for real for real:
feeling the cold steel ‘cross
my tongue,
choking
on the taste of cordite,
really singing, “I can’t breathe,”
and how much
this ***** and having
the means to put and end to it all--
Are you worried about that?
If you are
then don’t,
‘cause I’m not thinking about that at all.
I bought myself a gun today.
Wouldn’t it be great
if we all could say:
I bought myself a gun today.
Jul 31, 2016
Jul 31, 2016 at 11:04 PM UTC
I love watching swallows
Gyrating and playfully swirls;
Mingle above over the river
Forming in a malee a ball.
Swiftly riding the thermals
Scooping the swelling water.
They shriek wheeling freely
Like boisterous little girls.
I came to see the lively acrobatics
In graceful motion of symmetry.
See enormous body of water flow
Pour itself into it's wide open mouth.
Slowly eroding shaping contours
And lives living along it's banks.
Constantly foreboding danger
And yet beauty and the mighty
Together in harmonious chemistry.
There I was many hours
In thought. What do I ever get?
At the jetty by the imperious
River where until dark I will be.
Time spent the opportunities
Passing by I have no regrets.
I'm like a ship from harbour
To harbour of a predestined life
With cargoes of worthless experience
Till I rot at the bottom of the sea.
Laboriously river meander and flow
Agile wings twist and turn in the air
With invisible brush of arcs and lines
With a vast sky as an open canvas.
The two characters, elements
Of nature, demonstrate their part;
In the theater of strength and grace.
While I am but a nameless intruder
Grateful of the kindness forever last.
Jun 25, 2018
Jun 25, 2018 at 11:02 PM UTC
Uninvited Guest* Annexed
We are seated on opposite sides of ottoman,
Brother and sister,
long history of knowledge tenderness contention attachment,
sharing glances psychological plotting.
The uninvited guest plops down between us
large foreign hand touches both our thighs
We look beyond to each other
The intruder senses our bond
knows where we belong
but must go separately
Far away from the other
Curled fingers tell us we are
Strangers on infinite journey
And all we know is nothing
The air turns chilly
I am fraught with fear
My sister is the braver one
She makes a move to stand
The uninvited guest breathes deeper
Weight she cannot oppose
Our eyes search frantically for each other
But it is too late
* http://oursalon.ning.com/profiles/blogs/the-uninvited-guest
Dec 7, 2012
Dec 7, 2012 at 2:17 PM UTC
Your intrusion
Is conducive
To my city burning down
So I defend from inside my castle
Civilian hordes
Wield swords
And I've gotta flail
In my chain mail
My city walls have been manned
So use your battering ram
And intrude on me
Muscle into my muscles
And burrow into my bones
By disarming my mob
While catapults lob
Incendiary boulders
That protect me from
Temporary shoulders
That have exploited my nation before
Mining the resources from it's core
Avoid all the blasts
So we can clash
In the arena of my mind
Where steel strikes time
And my defenses
Defend me from my life
So intrude on me
And shatter my protections
And shatter my conceptions
So intrude on me
And break my perceptions
But be careful
Intrusions have reflections
Sep 8, 2017
Sep 8, 2017 at 1:11 AM UTC
My shotgun smile
Laugh away the edge
You know I love you
And you love the way we're intertwining
I love the way way the blood spills
My shotgun smile
A sun dial and music
Always time that's true
And your time is all that is me
I'm happy as can be
My shotgun smile
Loaded with dreams
Sweetest schatzi
I'm aiming for your heart
The place we start
My shotgun smile
You intruder
You know I love you
The way you break and enter
I know your face
May 16, 2016
May 16, 2016 at 12:16 AM UTC