one on one
no bars erect enough.
this blank stampede
bugged and bare
heirloom and constant bramble
flickers eye one century of wood;
astonishment hymns weed
songstress of tumour
hanging from a chord
in costume green enough
to pleasure craft and passengers unseen;
the brooding dark of pregnant anagram
spells unwise a penny for the guy
turning bright his harpsicord and flute
aloof beyond austere to sanctuary;
safe-haven with a pencils frown
etched on glass
more striking than a curse;
this curious sublime
of anecdotes from the smiling tongue of death
licks clean it\'s torso
dull but beautiful;
profound cuisine
eating with a Liger in a stream
chewing gristles fibre on a cabaret of thought
dancing with the arrows of distraught
piercing ears and the yellow of our eyes;
one on one
home comforts in a box.
a flame of teething whisky
a Highland cigarette
my reason for insanity
I haven\'t found it yet;