or that elbow looks like a life,
I delete the previous
and continue with thunder in G sharp.
in stroke time, down both sides
of the street, and Washington Square,
midnight organic fight,
girls beneath me, just as before you,
and what that means per time.
I never tried,
and everyone needs people like me,
and so I see,
bishoping like rain
with a cold, dark, promise.
when the sky is the only thing we share,
aside from music and memory,
there is nothing in my ear buds
that facilitate the day of life
and the love of day.
I swear my mouth through the rain,
and silver pianos refuse me,
but I don't think I was born to lose you,
and I don't think about it
and don't continue to think about it on the G train.
I don't see,
bishoping before the start
of the dancing horizon
that will take us for a ride
just like this poem so bad.