Ignoring the day’s auto hostility,
I Look Forward to Floating Chariot Nights.
Unless you’re Part of Me,
You’re pointless by Supreme Delights.
Amongst Candy Cane Towers and Two Temple Street,
I Somewhat Fashion “Home”
As Rootless Tome
By Ready Feet.
The world is your enemy.
Dreams are Your Guarantee
For Joy.
The ploy that stops Specificity
Is Sin.
Pleasure’s Particulars are, simply,
Bodily
Democracy
All are allowed to Trade and Begin.
You can keep, choose,
reject, or refuse.
Personally?
This Feeling of Dreaminess Euphoria
I Never Want to Lose.
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