love to grab a hold of self
ruminate with its venture to taste
the hallowing plow left vacant & repose
shelter lieth dormant onto its beckoning plow
to breath then let it go
bust up the beat to increase it’s tempo
the cemetery where I’ll lay my head below
languish long for further exploits of such
radiance the equated taste of her perfume
the dial out on the sofa learns from a violin
Sitting on the dock of the bay
some tender thoughts with words to pray
sweet layers of resolution
break throughout it’s noise pollution
such as a Russian Czar it will take you far
reaching deep below it’s plum line
the decorated mast fit for disguise
one word from the wise
realize your dreams & go further
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