Tyler Martin


Standard Candle

The farther away you get, the dimmer you do appear;
Telemetry’s burden’s bet, as telescopes taunt my ears.

Parallax vision shows that double the pleasure is not;
The light from your eyes like snow, landing on surfaces hot.

Weekends will come and then go, as friends with new ostriches sleep;
I wish he’d a brought me some blow, that I could then toot off your bleep.

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