The Spins

Written by: Bianca Jones

Brought on by division
By simple sweet collide
What's made in supple splendor
That caters to complex delights
We walk barefooted
We walk upon stones
Tettering on the brink
Falling through the threshold
Makes chaos tender sweet
Condenses the sweetness held in swollen cheek
That makes for perversely satsifying drink
Not to be shared, but savored selfishly
Calming and cool, bringing about a quiet rhapsody
That lingers between bouts of insanity
Made all the more delectable
Made all the more discreet
Even as it threatens to separate us
We foolishly surrender beneath its delicious leak.