when an old flame drops by

Heavenly Cakes in delusion
no one knows the where
also the crony
waiting to work with tool
to create the sense
his skill was untested
asleep I fulfill myself
count my colored dreams
Grace the living image of past
to throw color on the sculpture
I remain crooked only
waiting in the kitchen late at night
I own the
to hide the atrocity
my whiny fuss was drunk
down by the river
when an old flame drops by