Saturday, February 11, 2012

Whistling

The creative hand of
Lunacy touches me &
Blesses me but what
A cruel joke it plays
On me with illusions
Of artistic conception
Fornicating fantasy
An odd assortment
Of progeny defies
Description & taste
Yet in this time of no
Where to be & no
One to please giving
Strange purpose to
Indolence confusing
Me with myself

KE

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