Afternoon Delight

It’s an afternoon delight,

To the sunday morning,

Afternoon did die today.

 

Wandered in a shadowed of the wall,

And the places of seas,

Soon to be seen.

 

Feathered in a winter,

Basket in hand,

And a mother screaming to the door.

 

The watered images,

Of painters dead,

The faded images of the apple.

 

Watching to the side,

A person does see,

What it means to fall deeply into horizon.

◄ That good feeling

Fuck Narcissists ►

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