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Naked in Deuces

Naked in deuces, my wild suit. Losing my sanity  
in the shadows of a marauding galloping gastropod  
creeping, thinking it was a bottle of Grey Goose  
chilling. I don't cotton to window shades of the  
mind's inner sanctum deep within my synopsis of  
certainty where the quill describes my character.  
Where there is Ouzo there is macabre and where  
there are mirrors there are cracks in Twilight's  
interlude. How sweet the lips of your aria in falsetto,  
awakening my senses smelling your embryos of  
Mozzarella, in Macedonia. Longing for the olives and  
the blue flies on your eyes Echoing the strings of  
the Stradivarius. Where there is Ouzo there is macabre.    
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
Written by PaleSkies
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