Danger, danger
I’m a joke smoking out of an underagers smokers fag
Locateror, Lossenger,
A messenger once delivered:
‘I’m thought of as a flag due to fact
I planneted and plunged in the awkward ringing of some feeling, and now my voice has gone I am sore in something that feels it either needs your parking of peace or your warfare of war’
Stranger
The closest are the furthest
Even stranger
Anger - do you have it or are you without it
Lit your red bolds to unfold new thoughts
Unwrapped the layers and nothing’s there
Cold sores and cold thoughts
Try your cold readings on my weedings
I’ll grow, away or more
I can bald a garibaldi and I can leave my crumbs
I can stay as a whole
As a busker
Pleading but I tour
Move on if it’s temporary
I want something serious off you,
Full on permanence
I’m not a joke from a comic of Dennis the Menice
I want to feel you close
Not far away as if in Venice
I want to feel the peace, and I want for us to keep it
The red turns to white
The royal male had turned pale
Chucked me up,
Declared frienzie and the endzie
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