Springtime Klepto, stolen in the night.
smoke exhaled to the OOOH!s and AAAAh!s in joyish plight.
As i become like a kite gliding about,
the undulations both quivering and stoudt.
Baring witness to everything cuming and going.
the tide she is flowing.
apparently (bitches Ain't shit and they F*cked with the right Ho)...
Pulled hair, Wrapped Whip windows, with wigs on Nymphos.
As i now like paper floating down the river feeling the currents go.
floating along i contemplate.
I spy weirdos to alleviate.
the pressure of being something different
in a world where everything is everything
© Copyright 2017 Christopher Michael Coney. All rights reserved.
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