an ode of love of love

[cheekiemonkee]

the mink vagabond lugs sour apple remedies
in her sac of words
great leeches of vigor
and love and love and love
branded gyspsy on her wrist
she can sell me rapture
oh reverie, the reverie
with her, with I, with sleight of mind
but I aint got the patience for that kinda nothin
no trespassin goat herd poet says what you says, old man
like you says it, when we chew 
I'm snuffed and marked
crucified barefoot on the mountain where you live
and don't nobody know why like me