Sunday, December 22, 2013
In The Hope
In the hopes that the sound was the name,
You have a parting sense when looked through
The window of your benign house,
A straightforward facade is staring at your face.
The milk flows runny with cream
Underdeveloped and resolute to the touch.
You would look away from me,
Treading in the righteous fashion
When you seal your victory and look away.
This man who overflows with honey
Is an explainer, like me, and he is crazy
For he sounds familiar to men who hear
The music of sweet tongues of the natural
Substances, the way to look and hide.