DIAMONDS Creaming, or:
Shooting Diamonds
Invading… Baiting… & the vibrating…
If I’m passed would you be life-saving…
Blind thing, sugar-fling, dapper’d owl creaming…
Could I cross religions for your ikon dreaming?
Trophy time on the belt and the chips all dealt
And the notches on the bed: I shoulda quit while I’s ahead
Stranding… Landing… three plus ten branding…
If I’m alone could I still call it standing…
Sweet thing, sweet cling, little ole flannel thing…
If I stick around can we make it to the morning?
It’s the pull of my want and the wait drawn out
Or the blade of that will in the skill of your cut
Mud-bathing… Obligating… yodel-ay-hee-haying…
If I’m stuck degenerating & tambourine playing…
Black sea, heart beam, beetle-green bottle gleam…
If I shot diamonds at least maybe then you’d see me?
Left prints with your paws and stretched out my jaw
Left a tiny bit of drizzle dripping right abouts the middle
It’s the shine of my light to the grim of your knight
And our mystic-ass dance on a pearly-white expanse
christopheralexandersommers
today
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