My Thought Is
My thought is that my thoughts are scrambled.
I can still feel this heart, all the chain locks are shambled.
No stopping from getting this far from the blocks where
we gambled with death, without a handle.
Man down; he played the scandal.
Plain pants and matching sandals. Plane lands
and the pain cancels, plains grazing.
She said something different but I meant the same thing.
Lip piercing kiss stain painting oscillating.
I kept her in the drafts and pencil shavings.
JP













