Vintage Clone Poem by Antonio Liao

honing to be in the top and
wanting to come
in a zigzag
rouged road, thou it looks like
pocket in just a dusty
faded vintage cloths

seems like astral blue came mixed with
bubble sky, shifting moment of rare
nod, as strangers say, dine
in my pocket and eat my beautiful cloths
I love it; failure conquer my lust,
melted my shoulders, it dries
and fall to the
Ground and ready to eat my dust

well wisher suddenly call
without occasion, lifted my hour
into a vagabond crook with
glittering shoes of lighted sky

Oh! I am tiring of pretending
I have to lie...