Swagger

I feel you in a Bugatti, my love; and so vicious, my love. And

imagine a Mercedes-Bens Sprinter, cracked and bleeding in

halves. Indeed, our African-jade tears; and only but a moment,

adrift a silent gem. Quartz fills a soul, praying Lamborghinis,

athirst for riches. And aqua-blue Bentleys flood a mind,

crying: I’m more than inferior. Oh how I love you, feuding a

black-diamond, and bluebird-dreams. You’re more my emerald—

a Witty Bugs, as hectic as Yosemite Sam. I’m such a devil, or

better said, an advocate, sailing a Ferrari. And her hair, heaving

gemstones: a Tasmanian fortune. Call us in a night, where

graffiti paints a moon, and gold platted braids swagger brightly.

I love us like pain is myth: active as a Road Runner, sketching

your eyes. So pop open a bag of Lay’s, rev a porch, and stab a

pedal, drifting into a Rolls Royce.