He makes coffee and tastes like it too.
There's a scar inside his eye that I gave him. The rest are his own.

His name rhymes with everything. Everything.

I can listen to music again, without the silly river flowing.
I like it when a strange language is sung in. Where the words make no sense, and exotic accents are brought in.

I have discovered Carla Bruni. She writes, sings and is most most beautiful.
She also adds sound to the poetry that I have loved.
Hair is made to stand and much happiness is brought.


For, I can listen to music again.
The boy with the scar found me the ear that I thought I'd lost forever.

Of coffee and holes,
Of inter-changing roles,
Poetry, he writes with his teeth.