April 17 by The Running Son
scourge of roses
if i had a million dollars i’d generate
a black love market where petals
are dried, ground and ingested
by men needing their pride drown
in the headspin of a love-induced
of hearts found, and at spells tested
by the pinpricks of thorns on sticks
so to remember their lesson.
by Jim Aldrich (:
.namaste. -• ö.tH(ink)Mÿstiç •- .namaste.