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Twas the Future
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Spunky Fresh I have, as it would seem
The ability or muster
To grab hold of ankles and believe
while still suspicions dream
Of how wicked it would be
To deceive.
Vacant thoughts
of stealing plots
Egyptian sheets
without the cots
We try our best not to sleep anymore
For pawing at dreams
has become such a bore.
And so it is that I became
The silly one without a name
Worthy of such cellophane
Hating all
Without the shame
Growing ill
Of still fast games.
So heres the frost
As it craves your warm
Catching bees
Amidst the swarm
Its the silent manners that i miss
The secrets shared within the kiss
Having all yet wanting still
Stealing hearts
And leaving bills
