lion

toward the leaves, scattered brushed, long brown leadened, swirl of haze trodden, the spring garden, merges with, merges down, with the forgotten, flowers. fawn, shadows mere, on a puppet horizon, we want that lion, on our skin, the best of the set we think we've gotten, as if we possess, that we would rise, to a master's height, a worse sublime, when the tattooist claws in, and starts his trace, we grimacing and cry "foul", flowered forn, shadows, mere, on a puppet horizon, we want that lion, on our skin, the best of the set we think we've gotten, save only the lion's tail, the pain of imprint not what we thought, the lion safe from knotted claws, is not what we've forgotten, towards that wall, of scattered brush, long and proud, forgotten, swirl of haze, swirl of trust, the spring garden, that we've trodden, flower, forna, shadows mere, on a puppet horizon, we want that lion traced on our skin, the best of set we think we've gotten