Heaven sent.

Toes at the edge,
grit, gripping,
playfully wiggling. . . singing.
You,
Somehow. . .
Randomly get this feeling.
Air,
Intake,
Max?
Dialing out,
to your Queenie.
Frequency...
Adrenialine junkie,
Monkey,
all fixed up,
suit n' bracket, slash tactics,
feathers and straight jackets.
Papermache my way.
Ask me to stay?
Spread felt near.
When will I see her?
To feast upon your eyes,
is heaven sent my dear.

As you can hear,
my heart,
loud and clear.

xxx xxx xxx x xx x


Justin Bieber likes bleed poetry and you should too.