QUID PRO QUO
I dare you
trip upon twisted laybrynth'd verse
my mocking bird songs
I'll sing to you under
mid-night moonshine
shade
a thumb sucking melody
while I blanket you in
morning dew drop'd
h2Ohhhh
luring me like bread crumbs
to find a way into woods
where trees that fall
make no sound
pound for pound
mound of flesh
making a mess
from blue play dough
Im sayin' tho
proto
typed words
I dance on
like baby powder'd hard wood floors
slip and slide
a kis(s)me(t) stutter
and pause on this station
of captiv(eN)ation
oozing gruff grace and
proto
called
to slip and trip
onto neutral gray pages
that I run across
with highlighters and faerie juice
as to fall on your luminosity
effortlessly intense without intension
I inhale [here]
filling my lungs
with h20hhh
and drown deeper down
to the bottom
playing jacks with syntax
to the point of error
cloak and dagger
proceeding guise
shape-shiftd
proto
lithic
mystic hits
on solar plexus
nex(t)us
to a status quo
slipping away
in turning leaves
that fall
running from heat
while hiccupping cognitive breezes
of fresh pomegranates
I stole from your underworld
trollop strut to harps plucked
and played by cupids
in the key of hearts
making stupid do as stupid does
cause my quiver
is fully loaded
and instead of arrow to bow
I bow
at the
proto
col(lage).
cheeky.touche
