the busker of silence

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....shhhHHH

eyes rolled in the dawns dimming lights
the shimmering sighs slightly shy from the lips of dry
air.. unfound children dance under the strokes behind the moon
where no lie is kept distorted and no secret sold too soon
the afternoon drifts in daisy chains crossed in the stems scent
sent left of whats right if you were a grown up in this land of innocence
skipping, swatting a squat to sqaut sprinkler sitting on cleaner then pearl
hurling on tan bark fanned like and angel by the anal in the ancient dew drops - girl
is found - boy is around
kissing holding hands a day to pure to powder keg in correctness
select for cowboys and indians - well is it then
something i imagine or a life less oridinary

that one day we will grow up and loose the fundamental reason for curiosity

exploring the faults in literal world...

cause one day yes one day you will realize you were right to question it

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