You were born.
I suppose I just forgot.
You were fierce.
I guess I failed to notice.
You were my best friend.
How did I miss that.
We don’t want an ending.
So why do I send them.
It’s early, and I’m blowing.
I have no idea where you’re going.
I creased it.
I can replace it.
What I gave to you, I can’t take it.
Stand. And deliver.
I’m climbing silver.
Ticking boxes, watching clocks.
Mind detoxes. Darn my socks!
When we’re over we’re over — know my name
“Red rover.” – “Red rover.” what#s your game?
He grins polite-like. Scowl; ‘on your bike!’
Make way; My day! Spit how I like!!
Think me thick. Thank me finicky
I know your trick — Armoma picnic-y
Mark my WORDS. Beat yyour retreat.
We move as heard. To you’re defeat. .
No, I’m not done yet. To be sure.
I’m one not to forget. Until you know ‘the score’.
“Have I impressed you yet, Amy Pond?”
It’s a lot to take in.
And we’re only just beginning.
I don’t know why the truss goes
Even when I’ll lose– I’m winning.
and it’s easier to hide behind the walls errect before me
and harder to move towards you when I’m worried that you saw me
I can’t believe I’ve been so brash– with scatheing reputation
Behind the I’s, one last suprise– our final destination
And where he stops, nobody knows.
But with you, dear forest. I go wherever he goes.
The top gets heavy, that’s why it’s lent
And I’m unsure of every penny spent
I hate giving things up [. .]
Apologies in advance… about the bill
The spices are in the strain
The cans begin to hustle
An emperor penguin has lost it’s clothes
The tunnel begins a rustle
I wish I could double dutch
What’s the recipe
I know it’s always quite the fuss
Just visiting the rectory
Your engine hums, and I backslide.
You’re my greatest pride, and I hide it
It’s in me, but it’s a little further
No script to seek
No orchards or brambles
No doors to hide
No crazy straw
sounds familiar, looks comfortable
looks irregular, sounds similar
Onto the next request
Last lines still a mess
Head rested on my chest
The way it’s always been
If I write it down, is it not sight unseen
It’s not home until I flutter
Thistles are couragious. I metone, so I SAY
It’s the skid that casts the shapes in blue
And the paper to delay
Imagine what the wood would say
If I could fall to peaces
And I’m already on vacation, trying to cast
A side of Reece’s
Sounds good 🙂
First takes are always wishy washy
And trumpets need a leash
how enfuriating, frustrating– I’m positive
Fingernails on a chalkboard
don’t want to sound crass; I imagine
May we dance at last?
And the tiger penis’ll have to
Be thrown out… Can’t trust these states.
So get out of my head already
So I can feel my toes
I don’t know what I’m saying,
I never know what I’m saying. – River Tam