The pinnacle of beauty died with Sedgwick. The preacher’s daughter lives in a well by the side of the road. The foreman”s son is too busy to speak from popping pills. I drink when I think of our love and my mother’s on the line with a point to her wrist.
I’d brave the black jungle juice and wild head-monkeys that would slaughter my soul to once again feel your atmosphere.
Envelope my soul
My Extra-sensory deception
To feel your mirth in my limbs
I should be so lucky — you should be so careless.<br/> -m