In the yellow sun I become an outstanding wonderer. All the lonely people what have they done? who am I? Nothing. It’s easy to follow my hibiscus sun. I found that it’s a high from the volume of sweetness in potent flower, so good to me.
I'm an absurd man, mental drifter,
The spare bed double of my parents’ house,
The light gently pierces through the curtains.
A gift for a modern love.
Oh, all the poets are writing memoirs