the night has been rinsed
smokin’ blue boon
and good noon past moon.
you’re high my friend
the mirror can only say
raise the sign
objects further then they appear
ankles broken on the cross
Achilles on the horse
sky is clouded smoke
and the only life blower
is your shooting star
screaming to keep your shit in line
and stop doing the lines
jumping rhymes
on that horse
it’s the trojan way
Saint's Muse 