If he had insight, he could invite a lover

  Midnight in the moonlight but he knows her

  An apricot veiled by a apple bottom

  She’ll suffocate his free will like a hot broad to a bastard fish in the wind

  Fishing line, can you gouge out his eyes?

  Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  Pour some red wine, colour his heart

  So grey down there, can he drown in the sands?

  Grains playing games, can he escape? Outside a drug

  Crows croaking, snitches glinting cold, default state of mind

  Calling, contentment is rowing far away

  He’s at the shore, no steamboat.