Deers for Seers
Merrill Willgrubs
How did I get here? Like streams running meadows
Forget the summer smell of isopropyl ambrosia
Cold in it's feeling, I feel I'm forgetting
Hands like clams or oysters. It's gin. It's suns setting
For you cannot be here; you cannot find me
Do not follow forest deer to seer they'll lead you blindly
Half of your nectar is sweetened by your glances
Half of your head turns are killed by a mangier patient of mine
We are in decline with hill rolls and stories
I dream about talking, but waking is silence and I hope I'm not boring