Tallon Fassi

I love wine

but..

they can’t seem to make it without

water.

(Even Jesus was in need of some H2O for miracles.)

“I’m the worst hooker ever.”

We should be getting paid for this.

“I told him,”

I love you from

here to the moon

and

back a trillion times.

Weeping willow fireworks.

Purple as you burn out.

Mystic breezes from above,

cool my passion’s heat down.

“However,

I will go Spartacus on your ass!

It’s not okay to eat me!”

 

We have issues…

We want the shit to go away.

Water is a basic right.

This is not done bitches!

Give us what we need.

Give us water.

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Blazin mad L’s

and I feel stupendous.

“Rarrrrrrrrarrrrrrraarrrraa”

(Air thrusting through tongue in rapid vibration.)

 

Feeling nice.

Feeling vibes.

Smoke on top of red wine.

I love you baby.

This is the dope freshness!

Must have permission slips to ride this

and

You must be this high*.

 

 

I’d rather be here now… doing this

than in a car with

the windows rolled up on the crowded highway, commuting.

Everyday we are hustling just to stay breathing.

Alive.

Sipping on Vino,

that’s what we know!

Oh the silliness.

Oyoyoyoyoyoyoyoyoyoyoyoyoyoyo

Oh the silliness.

These words are delicious.

Dutch master dreams

and

Block Island Knights.

 

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We can’t see into each other,

staring in quizzical atrophy

masks fasened flawlessly.

Just two slack jawed art patrons

amazed and unsure and in awe.

 

 

 

 

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