Do they, when the sound is thin
Fawn about the chaise in the room?
Words that I couldn’t say,
Oh, I will paint you things.
Today, when my lips were thin,
Palmed my life around, golden hue.
Thread pulled, usual way,
Oh, I’m a saint, a king.
Do I, in retirement
Shuffle toed ‘tween nick naming the commune
And remember every choice I made?
Is remembering the better way?
My age, pulled like a string
Lost body, it’s a sound plucked tune
Meandering across space
Oh, I’m the fish of Kings.
Seasinks
acraein 
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