Suppressed symposium
Of ever suckled intimate effervescence
The inked tip toes
Dance lines around my patience
And our presence
Oh it is indeed
A muddled confrontation
That plasters upon my expression
Interrupting rapport
I’ll find some more of
These somethings
Or rathers here
Sad little particles to sort
But
Then my booze
The blooded white bleach
And bitter blades and bitter me
It would have been so misleading
If you were to have found me
Hanging from a tree
