Coins & Swords

Either/or is uneasy; and such unrest—an underage wit. Part a
Peach and share the halves and cringe the nectar. I ponder
Disposition: to know every move: to master social niceties.
But what the tint: the colors clash; and what the hint: the

Future’s mad. We condescend—a subtle slant; and grip a
Palm and wink a voice. My hands often speak; and tears fall
My fingertips. How to master life—the warmest beer; and
Often cold—a Chardonnay; and often fun—a light wrestle.

The sky is watching: the soul is mourning; and the ego has
Fallen asleep; and thus, the overseer—takes the helm. Dawn
Is fraught with fire; and noon—much the same. I smile the
Nights and laugh the pain; and teary eyes shed ghosts. She’s
A bit unseen; and such resurrection; and I duck and dodge a
Shrine of feelings; thus depart—an island maze.