5 february 2017
Morphed
What a long friendship with
moon!
I refuse to accept the blast.
Papa is dead, he said and
latched on to circularity.
I don't seek the interbreeding
with terror.
It was me in reverse mode
of cryptomania.
Too stoic; stop. I think
I am wrong; stop. And a serenade
for the lady luck. This life
was too much for me; stop.
Androgynous.
The female body wants to eat
maleness, by almond eyes.
The old man was walking barefoot
with a paintbrush.
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