I imagine Michelangelo may let loose a green monster,
at the sheer masterpiece that you have in store,
a portrait of love and heartbreak and success
for me, that is who it is for.
A life filled with words,
bubbling from the edges of my mouth
with sweet subjective words on my tongue,
in the northern city, after I escape the south.
And Atlas' strength shall buckle,
for he shall want to know,
all that child at mother's teat suckles,
and the lights of his bretheren in the night sky show.
The earth spins faster than,
he who runs the other way,
and I know my life is coming,
and I relish the dawn of that desired day.
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