THE moon pies in your mouth make sweeter
kisses as you lose weight
and you said, “Art, let’s go to the
museum, I wanna hang you on the wall
cause I need to criticize you then leave
you for the other critics of life”
And like the gills and fins of
dying creatures called poets;
fishing for all the right words
so relaxing to bait another hook
with syntax by the ocean eating me
I wear the language necklace of hearts
within a never-existed lesson in love

:: 06-17-2015 ::

About EPRobles

Writer, Artist. I like to paint abstract acrylic images onto canvas. I love to read everything, and I especially enjoy science, philosophy, and the arts. I'm new to the blog experience and I very much enjoy it! I hope to learn as much about all the features that WordPress offers and thank you -- my visitor -- for taking time to read my words. Peace and love... View all posts by EPRobles

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