To starve in a flow
that our extremities lit.
Is to remain under
the edge where I sit.
The softness at peak
will make me cry farewell.
Starve for me I do for you
understand your hell.
My fancy is fashioned
by a cymbal on the tap.
What words could we
say if not if it were for rap.
Tell me my exquisite tulip
who throws rocks ashore.
Tell me where there are
more to welcome explore.
The Sun is an authentic
thing to behold with some.
Play where you should
not under someone’s thumb.
Take me to a place asunder
that void is calamity thunder
from the duress under
realities little blunder.
I fly upon the sand to look
at the sea in the failing hour.
To feel this grandeur dear
please take in this power.
