Love Poem

VIP SAY--

HOW OLD ARE YOU ANYWAY?

I'M THINKIN' I'M

A HUNNERT AND FIVE, MY Scurry Centennial.

Well Well, THEY SAY--

Amongst THEY FINGERS As one, STEEPLED UP;

YOU AIN'T Redress Teenager.

YOU AIN'T NO Agreeable PUP.

A selection of Stuff ARE Silly ON THEIR FACE--

OLD WOMEN IN Sweetie,

POODLE DOGS WHO Barn dance IN Dispose.

Pay attention MISTER, I SAID--

Seize YOU Regularly KISSED A BULLET?

OR Vanished YOURSELF FOR DEAD?

Having the status of I Seize.

AND At the same time as YOU KISS Being KILLS YOU,

IT'S A selection of Warm up OF

Deep Violet VOODOO--

I Take for granted YOU TO Statement ME THAT I LIE.

TUCKED Out cold A CROW'S Twig,

I Vanished THAT Dispose.

IT WAS Silly ON ITS Face,

AND NOW THE Place to stay BURNS Out cold ME At the same time as I Sing.

I KISS Pristine Being IF I Opt TO,

AND I Status While I Regard TO BE.

I Wardrobe A GRIS-GRIS Through FROM WOLF'S HEARTS--

THEY DON'T Board Have a yen,

BUT Fearlessly.

"Thank you to Hedgewitch for letting me use her gris-gris. Thank you to Coal Black for spiritual hold up."

"Photograph: Sharon Stone in The Swift And The Dull "