A Vega star under the skin
hopping on a stranger's play
I'm pulling the trigger of a cloth on the bed
getting up towards a hammock feature
that peaks from a nostril,
ties me by its hands
that grant all girls with long-sent kisses
and gerbera Baums,
do it I not
kin is townhall masterkind and soon he sleeps
on my arms, be there whatevermore
I'm not closing the mouth of a sensitive sort
and a little playmate sings out loud
No stain seen in the hallway, and noises tell me
the suntrace will bow and pour and sing
my mug fills up with a lip petal,
I'm always kissing a future husband of someone
but look at it,
this time I am right
Hive full
Jack is not the name, no Andrew,
so my step rises up from the bed with tangled sheets and tired wet-Baums,
pillows with twenty-year tears,
and I stop fighting the random success of liquid-dreamed birds
how words could shatter neatly boosting sets
how he could set me apart from grunts of an old shedman
The howling door they walk at,
streetwise nonmen
my place is there,
don't take it away
My Daniels and Willies are there
and the last-seen narrow face look
that they dream of and build for, make napkins and toilet serviettes
that is me,
and my round little nake puts light onto all you
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