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| Dizzz |
1/20/2003
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Sweet succulent drops of love form shadows slowly simmering.
On the pavement glistening, with little white sparkles.
Falling little leaves linger, soon, twirling in the starlit night.
Humble heroes high upon the brick walls.
Forest fires fly like too many family ties, strayed away, from facts of fine fingers.
Fingers that point to the path of nowhere please only the exotic anxious eye.
Poor people press together.
Pink to red, purple to power.
Pleasure strikes the hour.
Puppet to the master played its part in disaster.
Praise to be a part in thee, only to cure a disease thereafter.
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