Tom Ramcigam (magicmarmot) wrote,
Tom Ramcigam
magicmarmot

Her breasts are like silk

Of the sickly sweet smell of lost touch as you leave

Funny Clown, bunch a balloons

how would one know he lived as a knave

Her breasts are like silk

things are not always as you know

a scent beyond all feathered ken

blossoming out upward from the snow

Her breasts are like silk

the coffee, unground

Reality is a staircase leading nowhere.

and rice abounds

Her breasts are like silk

as she lived bereft of joy

things are not always as they appear

he chortled with his toy


http://www.pangloss.com/seidel/Poem/poem.cgi
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