a Little-Heart of Yellow-Fluff

Your rattle can plunge in doubt
the wisest men.
You dance barefoot…
I stare like a full moron.

You’re on tip-toe into darkness.
I’m behind you
in semi-consciousness
with a falling IQ.

You exhale the sweetest dope.
I’m a pillhead.
I cannot cope.
I’m unwarranted. I’m mad.

When my poor heart gets tired
and becomes planetary,
I’ll get plastered
and lodge in my chest you, my silly canary.

© All rights reserved 2015

My special thanks to Tony Single
for his soft treads on this one.