I’ll weep here until my tag clouds run dry

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…