Table legs creek
and i reach
just abit over my head
done deals, speaking ofs
bring you here
grey round my turf.

hot bodies
aligned to
corner me
disgusted.
never been trusted
to execute
the where abouts of chapstick
never the less
smile if i see her

quickly averting
with uncatching eyes
incase
already spoken lines
fill our minds
bind our tongues
with poems i only wrote
in bed.

however,
fleeing with me
from my "prompt ghosts"
lets me know mitts* cares.