He has fallen out of the parade of life, So we farewell him with pints of precious tears, Embroid the log in his best attire, Smear the motionless figure with odorous spice.
She sketched him in the froth of her coffee, Hoping he would never leave. She could not turn off the siren Or the storm that leapt Inside her cup. She saw soldiers Chasing him down the track, Ordering him to surrender. The shackles howled; There was no turning back.
Put out your tongue. I’ll give you a lump of sugar. Every time something reaches your soft stomach from enamel teeth a process of transformation is required in order to maximize its nutritional value, to make everything one.