by: Suicide.
My breast lust to be braintwisted by her the one of unknown sources. To attend the voice that revamp a chill, that transform the climate of all senses. The state of funtion, dont include uncertainty. Within the realm of all illusion it would be worth the birdlime. The brainwork overplay itself like a 12 p.m. luch rush. The concord that enrich in favor of a outstanding warrant, to be found guilt by the jury of her copulated spirit. Over sway by change of conquering a inverted flip that one time was fundamental. Each foot-print speculate the twlight of her eyeful glear. Which outcast a swine of the eastend. Trouble lay within the circle of trust. Yet, hope is driven by winsome love flame. A seductive love that never undergo death by the walk down the green mile. To examine a sweetheart on exchange for worthless pride. A skindeed expression brought to light which recapture a vital force. With every joyful bitter, delight, and unsettle smile might just connect to the warmth of graditude receive from top of Mount Saint Helen. A heavy off-set exceed the might to uplift, to undertake objects of a black hole. Still hogtie within the answer of blank. Greater than five reduce a form that finally won a tresure box of love. 🙂
Micheal Roston (aka: Suicide)
DOC #63996
The reason, why I wrote this poem is love is something I really don’t believe in. But this is idea. Something that I would like to have. Thank you!
