like dandruff on my curly hair
or autumn leaves blowing in the air
as lint on my red low-cut sweater
what's all the buzz about some fuzz
all it does is leave my hazel eyes
wetter than last year

Shake him off
like a cold
this is growing old
like sleep
awake to he's a creep!

I hold what's left of your
moments
Bwtween the fingers of my hand
The gold chain and jem
I caress with my fingertips
Where no anount of tears
can wash away the pain
Nor do I want then to

I have
not forgotten

-you-

purring, from
the parching tree

Your unassuming
crooning wooed
the willows
of an older
England

earth-smoke

fumitory..

summer songs
of Solomon

A single sweet monotonony
dependable as harvest store

came summoning the daysleep
word delectable.