Do you tea-dip every bake crumb the same? Taste the age, then wait till its young teenage nectar sweet-coats your carpet throat? You like to barnacle your relationships, love suck a puppy dry. Yes, you can part my hair to the side; hell no, I wont cut it. The serpent lies really tight-wrapped my melon, Folded its smooth channels till naïve juices soft-purred to the tune you liked. You are safe house; I am orphan that canÕt stomach a bread roll. I leeched your leg; held, and didnÕt let go for the longest time. The Sightful Mole dug a black hole in my sprouting field of memories, But now I am only left with finger stains and a half-loving shell I call body. IÕll never feed you again. Bait at my window, IÕll paint over the glass.
September 1, 2007