hidden undercover, my triangle plays music too loud.
While a listening stick is too quick, for it’s feature presentation, to stand up proud.
Broken are ties that mended ingestion, reduced to broken steel, that turns too fleshy.
The punishment must affect the best, as kitty’s purr falls on deaf ears, at least needing a tip upon request.
I may be in primetime, as you’re at end field.
Only remnants of reminiscing, carries the adhesive, to past seals.
Loyalty wants to die, to help out in this crusade, as we are adjacent, but in our own escapade.
Poetry By Tamara Dorsey-Moore Thinker on the Loose Copyright (c) 2017 Reserved purposes intended.