like something stinks
a half-sneer

to ward off many a fair-weather friend
or suitor             I suppose
who may mistake me
for someone who

smells something pleasant but let me tell you

whatever it is
it’s

 
 

how I was born
 

“What’s wrong with you”
 
Oh you look so unhappy
 

I was born with a look on my face
like something stinks

Now you mention it standing here so close

It does I swear        Whatever it is

It does
 
 

Filed under Psychic Reader

 
I am a tree grown on your shore
 
even if I were cut and burned
my sticks and flints and roots and flecks
inside your mud and rock
churn
 
So dig this big crux
 
not even the sand
not even the sand
can part us
not even the wind
not even the wind
can part us
not even the waves
not even the waves
can part us
 
not even the shore
nor the sea
can part us
 

Filed under Psychic Reader