I wrote to the sun,
how I rode to the moon
and uploaded my stars
to my coded cloud.

The whole universe
has me in reverse,
she is holding her purse
already in the bus.
The woman I love
is the memories I have.

Tangled with life
is my bubble to strife
troubled by wife
ends cold with a knife.
You try to connect
but you fear no correct
million ideas in years I’ve collect

A reminder of love
or what use to be the laugh
prison they have
for my freedom to preserve
dying of age for nothing he deserved.

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