Picasso in my pocket

by
because your smile seems a glory... box
of some dreams have been telegraphed
at an odd address from a sarcastic area

this area, — staged in splendid art style
of the Picasso, in my pocket is wandering
with my whispers in your fantasy's colors

poetic audience

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the magic tips of his dreams fingers slipping sluggishly into her heart pocket caress any carnal curves of her brain then annihilates any psychic aggression by sedating her with the vaccine of love of his longing that burns smoldering the magic tips of his dreams fingers slipping sluggishly into her heart pocket is kissing the platonic texts of her lust painted by the resolutions of his universe with a distorting time in a square moon rolled in a future of an imperfect perfection and this happens just because the tips of his dreams fingers are magic...
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