45*21

my heart, a real heart
pumping its treasure of blood
singing the inner corners of it's song
a real bloodless sky after a day
of cool wind
I'm resting on the thoughts of Senators
as they orate themselves an orange peel
oh gallant gusts of goop
a high wind covers my manhood with dead grass
and I am insoluble at last
a glass that contains it all
an envelope full of indiscretions
the radiator wheezes
I wish I was the fool
as you wish I were the fool
drawn into the dimmest of firelight
bent over forever
the glow of moon beams
eating your chocolate cake
posthaste and in time for some sunlight
to crest the ever midnight tide