Around 50 or so. . .

 

i would like to die

high

on a shroom trip

under negro sunshine

with rhyme scheme and time

lak awakening

 

enveloped while

june bugs shoot romance eyes

at springs turn

and my queer soul

which has sojourned for so long

finds that peace

laying in grass

finally pressed to her frame

inseparable

letting ambition settle into content.

 

and i should lak to have thought it was great to live.

2 thoughts on “Around 50 or so. . .

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