my lover is pure abandonment
I tremble with enchantment
every limb true with movement
I tried in the face of electrical thirst
to face beauty
admiration in the eyes affecting me and
pushing me towards final discovery
the system of mental physics dirty yet moved by a kind of planet send me to your room
YOU ARE READING
Salad Days
PoetrySad poems from sad and angry times. Written from a juvenile time (14 years old) to older. That's what you get when you leave a teen to ponder reality. A pen hits reality harder than high school survival. Original Art from Vivianne Rheaume
