

Making Love to PoetsTo the Cordite all my words can spill Your vices are a torch’s flame. Your beau ideal a bulk of grist to mill. So never friends with poets make, We leave a trail of blood behind your name, Or thieve your Grace with greater ease than ever would a lovelorn Prince of Troy.Making Love to Poets
Take heed in this, as I send you to your doom.
Never love a poet when another man would do. Never feel their love is freely given. The price is great; the greatest under Heaven.
So, before your Love makes process to proceed,
Know the dearth of Pride you can concede.


The Truth of ThingsThe logic of objects;The Truth of Things
the bitter truths of Things.
1)This glass is not glass but absence.
2)This storm is a displacement, not the wind.
3)The effects we leave is our effect.
The logic of objects;
the bitter truth of things.
1)My lover’s hand is a cracked umbrella.
2)My howling is a seashell not the sea.
3)This toothbrush lost its lover that craned and kissed &n
wish you a lovely day
[returns t'favour as you seem cool
--
x
I in Richmond, so i leave comment for you.
Previous Page123Next Page