Arthur Flockwhimsy Poet Burlesque

If Demanded Meet.

﷯﷯
The unaltered Dropped gone Dead﷯﷯
﷯﷯Taught me Touch﷯﷯
﷯﷯And your Delicate White Skin.﷯﷯
﷯﷯He Could say, Hello, to things﷯﷯
﷯﷯Like Bumpkin, He can Dance, Alone.﷯﷯
﷯﷯Lowly worm Climbing through by think and feeling,﷯﷯
﷯﷯Like Wind, Wandering aimless, through the House,﷯﷯
﷯﷯I am something less, Your Versace Hobo, Designer Dressed,﷯﷯
﷯﷯For alley Beds and Psycho Vietnam-Vet Parties.﷯﷯
﷯﷯A Fetish for you, I Know, But seriously﷯﷯
﷯﷯I’m gonna Have to shave sometime this Week.﷯﷯
﷯﷯(And Can’t I at least wear my New Jacket for Christmas?)﷯﷯
﷯﷯Another Hour of Raggedy Homeless Sex, ﷯﷯
﷯﷯Pure Sensuous Form of Green eyes cloudy with Silver,﷯﷯
﷯﷯The Gravel of Your Heart, Made of petrified Kittens left in the Box,﷯﷯
﷯﷯Forgotten and Under the Tree,﷯﷯
﷯﷯While Even the Wind creaks by you Slowly, Yes,﷯﷯
﷯﷯The Flowers Of Your’ Bringing Are Fangs.﷯﷯
﷯﷯And Still,﷯﷯
﷯﷯﷯﷯Still,﷯﷯
﷯﷯﷯﷯The Warm Comes﷯﷯
﷯﷯Without Sound.﷯﷯
﷯﷯-Thend-

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