Euphemism of Intimacy

In the current of a

tangential euphemistic praise,

I pray, We pray to

indistinct drinks

 

Moving to what’s courageous,

asking why my name is

I listen to the rattle of my

own

As the rattle is  my own,

keep on your bibs]Taking sips dribbling

off my chin

 

Infantile adults, I

find this just melts

What is ‘my’ mould

Should ‘I’ fold into mine

 

Feet on the clouds

And my face in the ground.

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