Honeythorn
You thousand year old man
who looks like a boy
You're bending my brain
with your body of philosophies
Your unicorn fantasies
of disaster
One way or another
The leopard, Chui
Dragging me up a tree
like a baby giraffe
but yet unborn
Shorn of sense
Or sensibility
Fallen prey to unreturned desire
Prayer is no answer
No gift
No pleasure
No comfort
It's all just no
Without safeness or security
Danger, always danger
That's my lot
I had forgot
Mind your surroundings
Lancelot Price 2016 November 20