Don’t Listen to Me
Darling, I am hebephrenic. Please… Please for the sake of levitation, come blearily to me
Whenever the mundanity still not enough to search a lien in my head,
I’ll weep here until my tag clouds run dry,
If the skink won’t live in the winsome forest anymore,
I’ll jump in a weird arrangement with you, my baboon,
Wherever the swallow from the deepest handwringing that ever exist,
Could it be one single lisp that thrown away from our organs?
I … I wish I can answer that,
Although my hands can reach the white sound and hold it tinkling
It seems only your semantics that left,
Baby please don’t lurch at me…
I’m not sure if you did this here, but I like the idea of writing/sculpting poems directly from tag clouds. I’m going to del.icio.us right now to do just that.