Entitlement of a conventional minded person...

The individual.
What a mark!
Wondering aloud.
No wondering allowed?
It wanders off...'

The secret in its' original context;
no less than a tragedy.

My dear sweet Tanya.

The sweet smell of the earth thickens;
a plot I created in this voice of mine.
That filled'.
Fills.
Filling my own self without air which
cannot escape!

What kind of knowledge is this:
not factual.

My - prestige. Is - pristine.

I pick up pieces of her
heart.
In winter months I count the
days down.
Day by day.

Pink snowflakes.

Reverse psychology.

And these clown shoes...

The ground swelling beneath my feet.
As I live to tell a lie -
that will surface.

An aimless perfume.

There's no danger -
in anger.

My guardian angel.

The travel arrangements;
are getting to be -
expensive.

Free of courtesy. . .

I won't ever
give
it
up.