Little red boats

Little red boats that float in front of me, as I grow my two front teeth. Smile smile at me. Take a picture with me, with my two front teeth.

Little red boats that floated away from me, with their methodic spin that matched a rhythm, of my

waiting.

Little red boats that start to float. In cognac, red wine. To dine with the divine and the structure of a hip bone.  Little red boats go thin. I sit

waiting.

I watch my little red boats, as they become bored of my grey, shift and translate, to a different generation. I watch my little red boats, as they shift translate, into a red ecstasy. And I

Smile. Smile, to a new red me.

It writes into me, the jaw of the things that make me bleed. As he tells me, smile, smile at me. So I smile me another daydream, watching little boats run far far away from me.

So I grow my two front teeth.

Wrap the

string

of my little red boats, tight around me.

Tell them. Tell them…

Smile. Smile. Smile at me, to a shutter noise of my red ecstasy. A document of my final whisper over their sea.

And I can’t breathe.

I can’t breathe.

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I AM BACK YES!!! Please please tell me YOUR interpretation of this, because I am so interested to hear people’s ideas. Also tell me about your Summer, how is life? Get a classic British earl grey and have a chat w me.

Love, Misstery