Synaesthetic boy blue
rolls in chords popping the air.
Sleeps in hay mightily thrashing,
is a symphony whilst he babbles.
Brings down the tower crashing.
Then dew; like sweat, he smells vanilla
...and it pools cradled in the horn.
rolls in chords popping the air.
Sleeps in hay mightily thrashing,
is a symphony whilst he babbles.
Brings down the tower crashing.
Then dew; like sweat, he smells vanilla
...and it pools cradled in the horn.
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