Wild child

Crimson sharks elope with my
fingertips and
remind the sun that small ships
still run
with hope of finding
the cold blue dreamer's shore.

I want to live on love street,
sprinkle on my sea of
tulips
glittering sips
of love,and lust,and
neverending
care.

My face hurts everytime I touch
the empty blue lighter
and matching scarf-
why do memories end up
crums of smoke?
I'm a wild child,I love to choke
with that sensation of cold and bold
freedom of grace!
Life's a race,
run,run,run!
Now stop
and smell the burning drum...
Fabulous dead gun!
I hope to see the likes of him again,
maybe catch his dreamy train,
remember things I've never said,
hang on to that feeling that I know him
from somewhere.

Dance in my lap,clap,drink tap
water...
Your cool expression is just a sere trace
of an old chase.
I resent you.
For good.