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Loneliness Of A Swell Diatribe

Honeycombed in the loneliness of a swell diatribe,
My heart is half empty and a long
Ways from home-
And, if you’ve slept in all three of my beds,
How come you still have
A hard time kissing my mouth or holding
My hand-
And you still won’t be here with me, as the ghosts
Float across the earth of tattered waves-
And it all seems like a golden coil of a serpent

Echoing- echoing over the wishes of
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7/30/2021 7:35:18 AM # 1.0.0.666