That satanic streak of tireless undressing of a hapless monarch. Wings were gone. Cannot fly across the tree of hypocricy. A footmat for the suicidal jump from the elegant hierarchy to grainy lies. Why are you turning ungreen? You will
Don’t look deep into my eyes, who knows what you find inside? Is it the dreams that I lovingly hide, or are some demons residing inside. Am too afraid to let you know, Even too scared to make the show.
Tilted lips on the wet eyes. Below the lids was floating an island in a lake. Latched to a full moon I was trotting with snowshoes, trekking with stars. A volatile virginity rebounds ticking in your heart, spiteful. And I,