state of the art
Words play in this ink, splashing a blue sea
Crashing, storming, a bastion of beauty
We soon see—a landscape that’s loose leaf
Start in the margins, end on a cool breeze
In this head I hold thoughts bled from the soul
Keeping alchemy alive—pencil lead into gold
Atoms collide like butterflies flap in July
Passionate vibes passing in my stomach’s insides
Maybe it’s tragic, that the art within me—
Is magic. Nothing but my heart up my sleeve
Believe in the feeling until all odds are even
Lighting fires of desires when I dream them
But in the end, only dear friends will mention me
Your ghost of a memory, toast of the century.
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