I wrote another letter for you
I'd actually
love to be proven
wrong.
Drastically?
It doesn't have to be.
Just a fact for me, pre-catastrophes--
ever since
post-cacophonous,
grueling songs;
The oxymoronic thrill
of monotonous gongs,
resonating
too obnoxiously long.
I, nay,
a hoarse sing along.
Know
I, nay,
as in,
a vote for so long,
to dis+harms+only+us--
Pardon...
Know now no,
to dis-harm-onious concoctions
that do not belong.
Look,
it's already a stretch to see--
eyes elongated,
going in circles,
oblong.
And
short tempers,
are for not,
longed.
A commitment of trust and your yoni on my schlong;
Preferably.
Especially;
Just a fact for me,
it doesn't have to be.
Drastically?
Wrong proven be to love
actually I'd--
but only received conditionally.
©username
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