dancing somewhere in between the birds and gophers
not that you have the ability to defy the difference of a yellow jacket and laughing orchid

Harvesting the sweetest of syrups, allowing oxygen to be an option
not that your reckless reign would resent, but most definitely not acknowledge

and "Of course," not for granted
while still listing the glamour of glory

although your misconceptions may not roll off the tongue
they stand firmly in the creases of your canvas

a palette assuring absence of scheme in its lack of rhythm
      fooling the fish fixated on such nicely narrated notes

rather retorted to fix the fucked
Preferring to possess the mastering of the massacre of male kind
always being less profound than the previous

Dancing on the lines you define as reality
while I swoon with the sweetest of tinctures

so Tell me why torture tastes as timid as your tongue
because even a surplus on stock
is never enough

Bathe me in your insanity
I have always kept as company prior to your arrival
and swim into the Sea, I know so well

-C.C.