poetry = nonsense
nonsense = meaninglessness
meaninglessness = void
void = nothingness
nothingness = spirit

I dare not look too much my hands will shake - adrenalin rush but soft strands of finest gold from your hair clip have come loose dangling sweetly over austere gaze a touch of melancholy to accentuate that loveliest of faces Would that I could I'd snatch you in a trice devour you entire, with incalculable lust incinerating self in Passion's heat Alas, look is all I may a Pygmalion barfly longing for the precious ivory of Ængle lands 26 VII 05

written for the beautiful bartender at Zita
Copyright © 2011 Erick Calder
All Rights Reserved
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