Scent And Verse Trimeric
The Muse is a poem without words,
so much better to bleed tangerine;
Cover a page with its scent and verse,
squirt it all into watered down eyes;
So much better to bleed tangerine,
acidic bated breath will always burn;
Prose’s scar left behind for all time;
Cover a page with its scent and verse,
that’s enough to inspire a calling;
To cultivate the next is timeless;
Squirt it all into watered down eyes,
invigorating a dormant phrase;
Style re-spun to infuse a new one.
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