.
:.
.

:
you are the yellow,
the vendetta bed
shed.ding this sleepy little head
into some strange sex

(indeed)

you are the keys
str(etch)d out;
with ease

you were
the breeze
the platoon
-i never knew
the sweet note
i could never do

the wonder
of my womb
the tomb
of the wise
the willl.ted
daytime surprise
and i.


i


your white snake
that blank space 
waiting...
to be filled 
the shadow-
the slip;
the slowly 
                    
 s
      h 
     a
         t 
        t 
          e
       r 
          e 
               d

ship
the shift-
the last lull of your lust
the pinnacle of your best.



i am the red.
:
the rest.
:

:
.



:.