Needling needs, doesn’t mind the salty water bled me dry high the behest of you, Rose
I pricked my finger
on a cactus needle
raining blood moods,
my dry cactus waiting for my face
to water it with my eyes, but it
as cacti don’t chortle often
they being a bit prickly where
the hot desert is cool
scorpions kinder than you
a thorn on a rosebush. You
made me stand on my toes
seduced me with your bush. At
snakes I loathe less