a sort of baroque form
of literature capitalism
with purple crayons
and idiots' writing...
time
tick, tick, ticks
away...
and I am a sick,
sick, sick,
bastard...
a bartender
with a waiter's past.
I am honest
but not so sober.
ten many times.
love.
a different view.
it's you and me.
two mini,
too many,
lions,
castles,
knight help;
saved by the sour-souled fire of raining tigers.
my way is lighted
by the twinkling
flames of burning
hearts.
so many scars and magazines:
glossy pages and shiny bullets.
I got a different view than you
yes you.
it starts with the letter LOVE.
and ends with the letter Zed.