Sun sands sights. The lights
are smooth. I move. Your flight,
my rail, your tail, your coos.
Ways soft youths have proved
unkind. The times your tooths
drew blood. I shrug. Shut eyes.
Cold clean quarantine
and part whole heart is key
for peace at least for me.
I Want Wind to Blow: Microphones
You say, what sweeps me off my feet?
I freeze. Febreeze radiating. Debating.
Something like the hand glance, toe dance
coffee table barefoot sorta.
Passion vs stability.
Are you going to change the world from
the bus? It’s a clear bust to try to.
In flight is when your feels are real.
You land, you keep the lid on it.
One scene gleaned from the reel inside.
Everyone died. I lied. Still, not PG-13.
You showed a pic of the sun so
serene. Fire met dust so passionately.
I’ve dust for days but fire’s contained.
Where did it go?
Seasinks
acraein 