Her tum tumtum, his velvety time.
Good and deep, dipping down.
Put on the tongue, bury the rhyme
into the folds, into the ground.
Red rum humdrum, beg it to die.
In a little garden, it will be had.
Loud and hard, slipping down
in a little garden, it will be mad.
It will begin to stop Mother Nature’s magic clock
And everything will laugh and sing as if it were
a part of everything. So grab its wretched hand
and watch it expand, from life to death in a breath.
This angel with bat wings,
this creature you’ll come to love,
Red veined skin and other things,
this creature you’ll come to love.
Color Bars Are The New Dry Bars
1 year ago