Organic

Arranged soliloquies offered up deranged estranged pedantic pleas,

So please don’t beam across the scene like I’m some means to mean what it gleans.

I don’t know how to flow,

Like two stones without a home.

Crack my back for harder prose.

I’ll get back to your stack of bones,

But until then strap those clones of ghosts,

Stay safe and don’t wait to elaborate.

Facilitate the change and drain the main vein that course corrects the same stream into old stains when all we need is a little peace and a little lemon squeeze.

Breeze.