To be far from sounds, cities, and horny ones,
i wrote colocasian:
which went un-noticed.
its dull honey-color tempted gods
and makes human souls sweat in heaves.
AND my beating heart makes a neon sign
sad;
as though it would make me stop from
wishing Merlot. the deep diver searching
for pearls or ancient shells.
Ghostly whispers wishing seas that
undulate heavenly songs a-flutter
through currant bushes of sea weed.
my heart and eyes:
paint the image upon my brain;
please; see me –>
as a slave to all, to admit no passerby
to adverse towns.
:: 08.12.2020 ::
