Tss, tss... Cucumber Melon, Love Spell You lovely ladies wear it well Amber Romance, Pear Glace Take them in, waft away Feeling nostalgic? Represented? How do you apply these aromas scented?

I only succeed in doing my job by destroying myself in the process.

I have no legs to walk the earth, though many rely on my steady frame, I sit in silence through the park, a simple resting place by name. I hold the weight of weary souls, of lovers whispering in the park, And watch the changing of the guard from morning light to sudden dark. I might be made of stone or wood, of iron cast or slatted pine, A place to pause and read a book, or watch the passing clouds align. Though I am stationary here, in courts of law my word is gold, And athletes wait upon my length until their strategy is told.

I wait where silent choices keep their line, a crooked shape that hints at a design. I borrow form from what can’t stand, Then I fade when it returns to hand. My purpose lost when cloth grows spine, I return to shadows mute and fine.

Liquid gold, sludge of bones. I keep engines churning, furnaces burning, vehicles driving and politicians spurning.