by Kilian
once out of
haven
I washed my back
from pears and oil,
savannah's lair and groves
of spoiling paranoids,
there
the filthy senses raise with pomp,
stiff and ugly, how can those
be the sons of
pitied Fronde, a mess and more,
though I come
to see
that cleansing sumps is
paradoxed, but one
and two, not much, enough,
and just
as I've swapped
the love for innocence
I learn to see
that
heart is bold betimes
and dirt genteel
instead
I washed my back
from pears and oil,
savannah's lair and groves
of spoiling paranoids,
there
the filthy senses raise with pomp,
stiff and ugly, how can those
be the sons of
pitied Fronde, a mess and more,
though I come
to see
that cleansing sumps is
paradoxed, but one
and two, not much, enough,
and just
as I've swapped
the love for innocence
I learn to see
that
heart is bold betimes
and dirt genteel
instead
