Flames and peril,

Drinking mead, lips dripping honey but;

My phone and baccy’s gone,

It’s gone like all my money.

Flames and peril,

Drinking mead, lips dripping honey but;

Like phone and baccy… body,

None of this is funny.

Street name: Flames,

I still remember the day,

Crying in riot town,

I didn’t know what was safe to say.

The psychedelia on the ceiling that failed to lull the feeling,

When I was too naive to know my friends or what time to leave these ends,

So it just didn’t end.

 

One thought on “Flames, a poem.

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