"Don't Wanna Fight, Don't Wanna Die, Just Wanna See You Cry"

Misc.

I

Cannot serrate my desire to do something absolutely poetic to you, christen you by smashing champagne over your head, bind you with chain-link fences, drive you under bridges festering with loitering trains, stare you square in the eyes as you are crying.  Tripods of chopsticks worsened to quad-pods which are just legs for tables, balanced with filth, gigantic thumbnails on the coast.  Pink light in a dust box; if you have no watch how will you know when to sleep?  I, an over-arching tulip, my one brazen desire is to be plucked out by you.  Strip me up and outwards.